


Before I See Too Much

by roronne



Series: Before I See Too Much [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Fusion, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Background Akakuro, Background Aokise, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bartender Himuro Tatsuya, Basketball, Childhood Friends, Emotional Baggage, Firefighter Kagami Taiga, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Unresolved Emotional Tension, background MidoTaka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roronne/pseuds/roronne
Summary: Should I tear my eyes out now?Everything I see returns to you somehow.*Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU; post-Last Game, alternate careers AU.





	1. Chapter 1

_You’d think I’d get used to this sound_ , thought Kagami as the alarm bell began its usual clattering shriek throughout the fire station. Not because it gave him a shock each time, not for the instant adrenaline rush, but for his stomach plummeting once his brain kicked in to the fact it wasn’t a basketball buzzer. Adrenaline was good, sure, just-- if only it was the useful, pro-firefighter, life-saving kind.

He thought it throughout the whole truck ride, strong legs rigid in the attempt to simultaneously calm down and get worked up for the job. The whole team riding with him seemed stressed out and he wasn’t even at the wheel. Snippets of conversation were barely audible over the siren and rugged beating of the tires on tarmac -- but he wasn’t exactly trying to distract himself.

“Not been an incident there in a few years,” Chief Harada, a rock of a man, shrugged into the loose fit of his jacket. “The focus today is to evacuate everybody -- everybody, as fast as possible. It’s old buildings so I don’t want any injured citizens just ‘cause somebody thought they could shut the fire down in the blink of an eye.” Bumps along the journey gave each team member some resemblance to a car’s nodding dog mascot, heads lilting along with the ebb of the drive -- the usual passive tactic that made Harada feel listened to.

“Man, let it go, Captain. It was only first-degree last time and they thought it was a drill anyway…”

“This isn’t Tokyo! This isn’t clean new fireproofed flats, Kurosawa! Look, Kagami hasn’t seen the area but he’s sharp for the job already. Right, boy?”

Kagami jolted at his chief’s sudden slap on the back, snapping him right out of his frown of intense concentration on his undone shoelace. Glancing up and around, strong brows still stood fierce on his surprised face. “Buh? Uh, huh?”

Harada’s stern look faltered slightly, a slip of the hard-set faith he had in his newest recruit. Sweat beaded at the back of Kagami’s neck. “I mean, yeah, uh, _yes_ , I’ve never visited… in person… Gotta be on it because they’re old buildings, right?”

“That’s right.” He let out a relieved huff through his nostrils as Harada’s hand left his shoulder. “Close together in Nishi-Nippori district -- no, I say close, what I mean is completely joined up in an old shopping arcade. _Prewar_ old. It’s been just about pasted back together after earthquakes, so the structure’s unstable at best, a waiting row of dominos at worst. One shop falls and all the others crumble.”

“No pressure then, captain.” A teammate spoke Kagami’s thoughts exactly and received a prompt biff on the arm for it, sending a ripple of laughter through the crew.

“Get everybody out safe… extinguish the fire at the source… prevent the spread. Get everybody out _safe_. Got it.”

“Hey now,” and this time, the chief’s interruption was gentle in Kagami’s muttering to himself, “don’t freak yourself out, boy. You’re not a newbie anymore -- you’re a solid, permanent part of our firefighting unit, even with that frightful name. Your gut feeling’s never screwed you over in the field.”

“True, _Fire-god_ here finally passed probation. Gotta own your work now.”

Through a smile he winced at the reminder of his ironic choice of career when _that_ was what his surname read on paper in Chinese characters. But he looked at his team, jokey but sympathetic, glanced at Harada, and nodded. Confidence was set in his jaw and voice, even if it took some convincing in his mind.

“Yeah. Gonna be on it. What’s evacuating a few shops, anyway?”

\---

The last thing any of the firefighters was expecting to stand in the way of the evacuation was a 7ft chef with an armful of piping bags. Very much physically standing in the way. All they had to do was make sure everybody got out safely, Kagami raged internally (definitely couldn’t be external, if he had to take any feedback away from that ‘Emergency Services and the Public’ section of his probation review), and the one person to complain wasn’t some old slow grandma but a young employee? Weren’t kitchen staff meant to be extremely fire-aware or something?

“Sir, you need to leave the premises just like everybody else in the district, your staff say they’ve already turned off any hazardous equipment, we have to evacuate as soon as--”

“Absolutely no way, mister.”

So that was the logic for this stupid sit-in! And did he have to refuse so slowly with that weird flat drawl? Was time passing slower for the guy, or seconds stretching to entire minutes in Kagami’s buzzing mind? “We have the jurisdiction to evacuate the premises for your own safety, so if you could just--”

“If the cake goes up in flames so do I. Just like reviews. It’s my shop, mister.”

A growl, a word not yet fully-formed, rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down with a nod and jerkily signalled over to his teammates each stationed at every other shop down the alleyway. Marigold Way was a wide, roofed road of joined-up open shops no longer than 300 yards, mostly necessities for the local neighbourhood -- grocers, hot food stands, pharmacies and clothing markets, peppered with trinket and cosmetics stalls, so with the camaraderie between the neighbourly employees of each shop, the evacuation had been mostly painless up until this two-unit café-bar.

So those firefighters further down had their hands full coordinating the elderly shopkeepers concerned about their pork-bun heaters, fair enough; those who saw Kagami’s motion held his gaze briefly, sized up his opponent…

Shook their heads, and looked the other way.

His jaw dropped. Teamwork or chivalry was dead now, or something, apparently! “Don’t ignore me! Oi!” He swivelled around to search for any support just short of manually tugging the stranger aside, glimpsed Harada -- busy deliberating with the fire marshal the street blockage the fire truck was causing -- but he was alone, in his spot in the alleyway, to deal with this gigantic sulk.

The scent of smoke was in the air as he inhaled and tried again, hoping some diplomacy and reason would kind of… spawn convincingly in his voice.

“For the last time. We need you to move,” Kagami gestured to the gathering of mostly curious but somewhat anxious crowd of shopkeepers barely three units away at the end of the Way -- not that the chef, looking in the opposite direction through his mop of hair, seemed even aware of the movement, “To the fire assembly point. For half an hour, max.” Still no response. Hardly a blink.

Every second lost in a fire situation could mean its spread. It was a bad idea to act on it, but the aggravation wormed its way out through Kagami’s clenched teeth.

“Or I’m going to have to _physically_ remove you from the premises.”

That seemed to catch the man’s attention at last; chef clashed with firefighter in the world’s most excruciatingly slow turn of his head, until Kagami found himself staring off a man at least 10 inches taller (and probably wider) than himself, even in full work gear and helmet -- and when had the guy stepped closer, too? Those previously glassy eyes suddenly seemed to flicker with fury, and toe-to-toe, he saw that they were violet, practically smelled the sugar from the icing nozzles. Earlier’s nasal whine was suddenly a low drone that almost reverberated through his ribcage in its depth of tone.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, mister.”

“Guess you ought to think about _cooperating_ then.” His own reply was faster than he anticipated, and he felt his shoulders squaring up to match his opponent, to… to…

Do what? Wrestle a civilian? But this guy was no less determined to stand in place than a boulder, and the radio on his belt was garbling a request for support at the site of the fire--

Wires crossed in Kagami’s mind between politeness and safety all behind his hard, flickering stare -- he didn’t notice the change in tone on the radio, nor a gentle presence approaching. Not until the chef suddenly leaned back to his full height and finally turned his head towards the assembly point. For a moment he felt relieved that at _last_ the stubborn idiot was going to comply with the _emergency services_ \-- the calmest resistance he’d ever met, thinking about it -- but the guy didn’t budge from his spot, instead lowering his head slightly. Kagami made out the murmur of “Muro-chin,” on his lips through a haze of trying to figure out his intentions through body language. A snide remark? Was he going or not?!

Though nothing could have been more jarring than the voice he heard next. Not even if the chef had dropped every icing bag and sprinted for the fire marshal, not if the blaze fifteen units down suddenly erupted forth from the café before them. For some reason it shook him. Far more deeply than a little bit of a stomach lurch from an alarm bell.

It was soft, with a lilt of stress.

“Atsushi,” he called out before arriving, “Damnit, Atsushi, you need to follow the proper fire safety procedure. The guys phoned me saying you didn’t leave, it’s a good thing I was already on my way!” Steps came to a sudden stop right beside the chef and Kagami had to remind himself to move, to use maybe more than two senses to acknowledge the newcomer, who shouldn’t have been entering the alley anyway.

Black hair, grey eyes. Another young guy dwarfed by-- Atsushi, was it-- in a slightly formal uniform, black waistcoat and a hoodie under his arm, softly frowning up at his friend in a mixture of exasperation and pure exhaustion that harshened his whole demeanour with breaths as though he’d jogged here. It was only when he glanced towards him that Kagami realised he’d been boggling slightly at the stranger… and that only one eye actually bore into him, the left concealed under a floppy fringe. Any official ‘move to the assembly point’ statements were whipped right out of his brain as though this slender guy had unplugged a vital USB stick somewhere.

“I’m so sorry for the trouble, sir, he’s really, _really_ overprotective of the café. He’d rather put the fire out himself with just the kitchen blanket if it ever came to it.” His voice was gentle, very lightly panicked in the silence Kagami was leaving, gobsmacked - probably assumed they’d narrowly missed a civilian incident - as the guy took Atsushi’s elbow and started pulling towards the end of the arcade. “C’mon, you baby. Don’t hold everyone up like that again, alright?”

To the firefighter’s greater shock, the chef actually lolloped along in total obedience, mildly complaining. “It won’t come to it, ‘cause the fire’s not even close by.” He heard him mumble in passing as the two headed off without a backwards glance.

…Not close by? They’d been requesting assistance so it could be spreading this way, right? The comm radio was garbling at his belt again, this time with chatter that seemed to exist on an entirely different plane to Kagami. Approaching teammates were a quiet echo, all senses but sight dulled as he watched the black-haired man who’d made his organs somersault. The scent of burnt plastic on Kurosawa right next to him barely made him wrinkle his nose.

“You mean you only just got everybody out? The fire’s dead and everything…” Someone murmured, confused, the tone finally snapping Kagami out of his daze despite his heart still feeling firmly rammed up his throat. “Guy didn’t wanna move. Someone showed up so he’s just now...”

Kagami’s vague shrug towards the now-dissipating crowd did little to support his explanation; Kurosawa, Hide and even the supportive Tanaka behind them looked unconvinced, but uncurious.

Well… he couldn’t really describe what the issue was in real words, let alone how it was resolved. There was enough of a mental scramble simply trying to figure out what made the chef look ready to turn him into rollcake at the slightest push. Harada wouldn’t want to hear it. ‘ _He wanted to get cooked along with the district, then his buddy came and dragged him away and I totally blanked and forgot to resolve it well, so I didn’t really help anything at all and should’ve been at the fire instead ‘cause I’m not allowed to yell at civilians even when it’s for their own good_ ’? Yeah, unlikely. A gloved hand lifted for a thoughtful headscratch, meeting the dome of his helmet instead .

“Um… forget it.”

“Haha, alright. Well, nobody got hurt at all in the end. Turned out to be an air-conditioning unit gone nuts from overwork. Kinda looked like the Marigold association hadn’t cleaned the dust out since the eighties, too…” Deputy chief Tanaka came forward to clap Kurosawa on the shoulder and nod everybody towards the end of the alleyway. “For now we’re good but I think we’re gonna have to write a report about the fireproofing in this place, see if they’ve got some neighbourhood association for this kind of thing. Buuuut that’s for the big guy to decide!” he grinned with a gentle beckon for Kagami to come closer, for his turn to be shoulder-clapped in camaraderie. He returned the sentiment with an awkward crooked smile and came forward, missing a step with the force behind the deputy-chief’s hand.

People were trickling back into the district now, all abuzz around the team with gossip and slight fascination with the fire crew. Despite keeping his eyes peeled, camouflaged in the six-strong crew of firefighters and gaze fixed solidly on the café entrance during the entirety of finishing up with the fire marshal, he didn’t spot Atsushi or the black-haired guy again.

Though his throat no longer felt thick with shock, his stomach didn’t seem to want to loosen out of the knot it’d sat in since the civilian incident.

Maybe 3am after-work dinner would fix that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, it's finally happening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I Can't Believe They Actually Met

Inasmuch as there was no set schedule for a day’s work, Kagami still found he was having trouble committing enough brainpower to complete his tiny portion of the previous day’s report. No number of burgers seemed enough after that weird shift, so he’d found peace at a total of 25 in the early hours at the drive-through Maji Burger nearest to home, making a forward effort to order and sit in the restaurant, just to prove to himself that he still had people skills. Just, it hadn’t agreed with the stomach knot. At all. And now he was suffering over lunch-dinner stuck in the fire station at the weekend’s vacant desks.

 _Tick-boxes, tick-boxes shouldn’t be that hard to fill out_ , he kept repeating to himself until each question to be answered became motion on his lips. Concerns about building stability; concerns about the neighbourhood’s ability to organise themselves; concerns about this and that, yadda yadda, everything was ‘not applicable’ anyway. Sighing, he grimaced and N/Aed what he didn’t witness, then stood to deliver it to the on-duty administrator who smiled sympathetically back at him from her seat.

“No action out in the field again?”

Faced with Nadeko’s greeting Kagami tried to make his eyebrows look less furiously-knit – difficult to do with their pointed shape. “I don’t mind that so much. Just, never know what to put when I didn’t really _do_ anything. Feels kinda like a waste of paper…”

“Don’t worry about it, Kagami-kun, most of the reports I receive are mostly ‘I didn’t do anything’ since only maybe, say, three of you boys are actually fire-fighting at a time. And everyone wants to relax after all that stress. Which is fine. But it does make their handwriting all sloppy.” Nadeko giggled gently, a soft sound over the cracking of staplers and filing cabinets shoved shut that she always seemed to manage without concentrating. Kagami was watching her slick ability to multitask when she came to a stop, eyes skimming over the paper. She spoke again, trying to introduce it with a tender laugh.

“Umm, Kagami-kun, you’ve written ‘N/A’ in English again… Please properly write it in Japanese, okay?”

“Oh-!” His face fell.

“It’s fine, um… Look, I’ll print you off a fresh copy! Here you are,” she handed him a new, printer-warm form, “All you have to do is copy off the first one and rewrite the romaji into hiragana.”

“Isn’t… isn’t ‘N/A’ normal in Japanese too? Like if we have ‘OK’ and ‘NG’ and stuff, it makes sense!”

Nadeko began shaking her head, but quickly seemed to scramble to assuage Kagami’s pride before his head-bow turned into a depressive full-body slump. “Ahh, I don’t mind, I can read this much, but it all has to go into the national system and the database is standard Japanese, so…”

“… Sorry, Nadeko-san. Won’t be a minute.”

“Don’t rush, okay? The ink needs to dry…!”

But he’d swept away to the firefighters’ tiny excuse for an office, an ancient DIY-built desk fixed behind a beam within the truck shed. Its plasticky surface was no longer white, made distinctive with coffee-mug rings and passive-aggressive sticky notes forcibly taped to the wall in front. Kagami pulled up the slightly-too-small office chair and hunched over the table, ballpoint poised to make real neat work of the form. Dry ink, Nadeko said… so he’d probably smudged it in his haste earlier. Thinking about it made him anxious, so the best thing to do next was just act! Do it! Form-filling!

The paper tore under the dry ballpoint’s tip, and Kagami slammed his forehead onto the table with a groan. Defeated by a piece of paper that was a minion of the giant undefeatable boss called Bureaucracy that looms at the end of every call-out.

There was just… so much beneath the surface of this dumb task. He had hitches filling out forms for work at the best of times, but it had been ages since he’d defaulted to English shortcuts. Thankfully that was a well-kept secret between himself and HR… which was all the more reason that it had caught him off-guard.

Telling the chief that he’d done absolutely nothing and in fact even failed to evacuate the premises properly – he wouldn’t want to do it in person, so why would he want to do it through paper? It felt insincere. It felt telling, too, that he’d had trouble only on this particular occasion.

That guy, Atsushi – it felt weird knowing his given name and not his surname or even his companion’s – had looked as though he wanted to gut him like a fish for the mere suggestion of displacing all 6 foot 10 of him several metres to the left. But he’d been led away so easily.

Guess he just had some kind of authority complex… It was only hurting his brain to try to Sherlock Holmes his way into some weirdo’s mind.

He sighed and hunched over the form again, only for his ears to prick up at the metallic creak of the door opening further down the shed. Kurosawa’s fluffy thin hair was visible over the top of a huge stack of hoses before he poked his face around the corner and finally grinned at Kagami.

“There you are! What’re you doing so far from the coffee machine?”

Kagami snorted. “That’s Ueda, not me! I’m just doing my box-ticking for yesterday where Harada won’t find me…”

“Boring as usual, huh?” he laughed sympathetically. “Listen, we got a meeting in ten at the office about public fire safety training so drop by, alright?”

Nodding, Kagami stood with a, “Gotcha.”...folded away the form into a back pocket, and followed his teammate out.

 

\--

A collective groan rang through the younger additions to Setagaya’s firefighter squad. Conversely, Chief Harada, Deputy-Chief Tanaka and the eldest firefighter Nakayoshi all seemed to count to 10 with a Buddha-like stillness. Harada’s bark of a voice pierced the quiet.

“Listen up! There’s more to serving the public than extinguishing fires and telling junior schoolers not to play with matches! This is going to be a routine part of duties from now on!”

“Ehhh…?” From behind Kagami in the standing circle, Hide whined. “Isn’t there going to be some kind of trial period?”

“No point.” Harada crossed his arms. “Yesterday’s—and the last month’s—call-outs confirmed the need for stronger, national teams to lend assistance. You probably guessed but the call-out in Nippori yesterday was only necessary because their own fire team is pretty much permanently at the train station these days, and their—“

“What about a volunteer service? All those farmer-types have a community station, right?”

Deputy-chief Tanaka softly gestured to Hide to tone it down, as Harada shot him a glare that sent chills down Kagami’s spine. “—their volunteer fire team are mostly infirm, haven’t received any formal training and they rely on some guy’s van to get around. That’s why we got the call; the shopkeeper didn’t even bother with the volunteers.” He lifted his spectacles to his nose to scrutinise the compiled report from the day’s task, mostly his own findings, but there was some official air to consulting a piece of paper around these guys. “In fact the head of the service was… the fire marshal, and if you remember, he was the grocer with a walking-stick in unit 1-A. Wouldn’t’ve even been there to pick up the line.”

“What a mess.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” The chief needled, waving his pointed finger, and Kurosawa immediately looked regretful for agreeing, “And what is the fire department for, if not solving problems and leaping to the rescue? We’ll pay them a visit, since they can’t make it here. Tomorrow, while the part-timers fill in, three of us full-timers will head back to the Marigold Way to train the volunteers so that they’re prepared for a _real_ emergency, should that ever happen – like our training days here, but on-site at their volunteer station.” He removed his spectacles, and looked around at the gathered ring of his team. “Myself, I’ll be speaking directly with the fire marshal and the volunteers; Hide, since you’re particular about equipment regulations, you’re creating an equipment and training modules report. Kagami, you’re relaying training info to all the businesses in the Way.”

While Hide half-shrugged at the comment, Kagami blanched. “Me, Chief?”

“Well, yeah… Any time we’ve held a public visit or a training session right here, you’ve always been the most popular. Got a way with words. Old ladies love you, kids love you…”

“Kids love _climbing_ me,” he grumbled somewhat tiredly. Harada sighed.

“I’ve put you forward for your skills with the general public _and_ handling curveballs. Something unexpected comes up, you always deal with it in a more unexpected way. Like it or not, you’re reliable, boy.”

Kagami flushed, tan skin trying to turn the colour of his scarlet hair. He liked to think he vaguely knew what he was doing in the field but when he was praised like that, his mind always supported him with good examples. Even the incident in the Way was forgotten in the wave of memories of seeing off merry grandmothers-turned-fire marshals.

“Any questions? Good, then I’ll see you boys at the assembly point – you know it – at Marigold Way, 11am sharp tomorrow. The rest of you: shifts as usual.”

The men dispersed slowly, each headed to their next post in the station; bound for the office, Hide slapped a hand onto Kagami’s shoulder and grinned.

“Hey, Fire-god. The lovely Nadeko-chan made up something about the scanner being on the blink.” He whispered. “So I won’t tell Chief about the form if you give me a lift tomorrow.”

It felt like the folded-up paper was burning a hole in his pocket suddenly after the distraction of that meeting – and with the recollection of that due piece of paperwork, he remembered what unfinished business he had in Nippori. Kagami sighed and offered him a wry smile. If he couldn’t fix his mistake until the next day, the least he could do was accept this favour… and hope Hide didn’t mind his driving style.

“Alright, bro. You got a deal.”

\--

Turned out having a Japanese conversation on the long drive through various interconnected wards helped Kagami stay on track on the road better than ever. Given enough AC/DC on the stereo and lack of breakfast and he’d easily try to veer to the right lane; but Hide’s fluid blather was sobering throughout the whole ride to Nippori, and even parking near Marigold Way was relatively painless.

“Whoa… It’s beeping.” Hide marvelled at the bright reversing sensor on the display. “Even a big car like this needs to be up to date with technology…”

“It was the only one in the showroom that had the, uh, space inside.” Kagami admitted, pulling to a careful stop. “American cars all have this sensor now… and automatic… so this thing’s actually kinda more… brain-power…needing.”

“So that’s why you prefer riding in the truck, huh?” His co-worker laughed, and Kagami snorted, turning off the ignition. “Get outta here, Hide. Pick up your coffee cup too!”

With the parking paid, the walk to the station went slowly. As an area, this neighbourhood in Nishi-Nippori felt so quiet and far-removed from the rest of the ward. Large business buildings loomed far away in the horizon, but the streets themselves were lined with grey-white buildings that seemed to conceal lively restaurants and bars, dotted with the occasional traditional wooden-eaved shop with an open storefront. A visit like this only required casual wear – smart-casual and navy shirts – but backpacks and jackets being their own, nobody seemed to pay the two of them much mind, apart from the odd staring toddler with a parent gazing up at Kagami’s height as though he was the Statue of Liberty parading as a civilian.

Upon Hide’s suggestion and the guidance of an ancient, paint-flaking tourist map, the pair swung by the volunteer fire service building. It was… an old-fashioned, previously-used police stop no more than the size of two shops together. Built entirely out of wood minus its slate roof tiles. They winced. What was this, the Land that Time Forgot?

Between electric poles and a gradually lowering skyline around them, the morning sunlight shone on the street more brightly as they continued towards Marigold Way. The closer they got, the more Kagami was trying to ignore the strange stomach-cinching feeling that was starting to become uncomfortable. It wasn’t like he was scheduled in so he could grovel for forgiveness in the café, but equally, he wanted to make amends… and perhaps, even, get another glimpse of the black-haired guy. Yesterday’s confrontation left him with the unsettling feeling that he wanted to know more about him, or maybe that he ought to know more about him, but he kept trying to write it off as plain curiosity about the whole situation.

Well, it wasn’t as if Mr. Purple Baby was going to emerge with a meat cleaver and chase him away just for dropping in to informally apologise. He could probably just stick his head in, satisfy his curiosity, and forget all about it once all the shopkeepers had received the community instructions for fire evacuation procedures.

Previously they’d entered the Marigold Way via the opposite end – where fewer people had gathered, so easier access – but they approached the fire assembly point, where Chief Harada was stood, arms crossed in a much more lax manner than he had them yesterday, with the fire marshal once more; upon glimpsing the remnants of today’s squad, he perked up and beckoned them over. Kagami and Hide joined their chief with his introduction.

“You’re late!”

“Uhh—“ Kagami started, to be cut off by Hide.

“No way, Chief, we’re on time!”

Harada grinned. “Nearly got you. I got the early train.” Turning to the fire marshal, a gentile-looking older gentleman in a midriff-warmer over his jumper, he gestured to the young firefighters. “Alright sir, these two are assisting with the training today. They were on-site to lend a hand yesterday too and today they’ll help everybody with the training and all the questions you have. Boys?”

Without skipping a beat, Hide gave his best public-serving, get-all-the-greetings-over-with-so-I-can-check-your-equipment-safety-checks smile and bowed his head. “It’s Hide Mamoru, nice to meet you.”

“Kagami Taiga.” A second passed, and Kagami stammered quickly in his forgetfulness, readjusting the jacket under his arm as he gave a slightly deeper bow. “N-Nice to meet you.”

“Kagami-kun, Hide-kun. Good to have you here. I hope you’ll enjoy your day in our part of the ward. Must be quite the difference from your station in Tokyo…?”

“Ehh, it’s a good difference. The air kinda smells cleaner out here!” said Hide with a laugh, making the marshal chuckle. Chief Harada seemed pleased at his choice of squad already as he led them to the station, back in the direction the young men had come.

\---

As it happened, the new skills the volunteers – three grandparent grocers in their eighties, and one comparatively-spritely sixty-year-old hairdresser – required as a top-up on their current knowledge of fire safety was… everything physical to do with evacuations. More often than not Kagami was futilely attempting to demonstrate the firm pressure one needed to apply to extinguisher handles, while Hide was firmly head-in-hands-concerned over every out-of-date piece of equipment in the shopping district, each extinguisher a decade older than the last. An order list of new parts was compiled (“I don’t know if the budget can stretch to this…” the marshal commented, Hide pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “So what did the equipment budget go to every year since the seventies…?!” “Well, the new year’s party _is_ very important to make every shopkeeper feel valued…”); tens of instruction diagrams for types of extinguishers and fire blankets were printed with aid from the design and print store; and after several hours, each volunteer was awarded with an official certificate stating them fit to manage minor fires and even compile a professional-standard report after the event without external call-outs.

All that was left was the groundwork – to notify every store’s staff of the changes put in place, check their individual qualifications and evacuation procedures, and locate the safety equipment. Mid-afternoon now, Chief Harada clapped both boys on the back and nodded them towards the arcade of shops once more. “Public relations.” He said, taking his leave. “You can bring back the reports tomorrow if you get back late today.”

“Roger that.” Kagami and Hide nodded their goodbye and watched him lumber towards the high street for the train station, files bundled into a briefcase under one arm. Yeah, public relations. Fancy term for ‘chatting people up so they feel knowledgeable instead of being lectured’. With a short sigh, Hide put his hands on his hips, smiling tiredly. The district ahead of them was softly bustling beneath its quaint domed roof and hand-painted signage – but they both felt the sense of community emanating from the shoppers. This wasn’t an inner-Tokyo shopper-and-commuter crowd. Everybody here knew one another, and despite their help today in the station, they were as good as aliens.

He took a breath and gestured to the left row of shops in the alley. “I’ll take this side, you take the other. We go in, we ask who’s fire safety trained, we find the fire exit sign, and we zoom back to Setagaya. When’s the parking ‘til, Fire-god?”

“Uhh, we got a couple hours still, no rush. Sure you don’t want to go in together so you do equipment, I’ll do people-checking…?”

“Pfft, the two of us in _those_ tiny shops? Probably cause more commotion than you need when you’re trying to find a sign on some backroom door. C’mon, man. Just radio me when you’re done.”

Kagami reached back to touch the comm radio on his belt. “Heh, alright. See you on the other side.”

“What does that even mean, man?” Hide snorted out a laugh and stepped away for his first stop, a traditional bakery – Kagami mirrored him, starting with the rival sweets-maker just opposite.

But after five units’ worth of note-taking, sign-locating and grins and greetings, it became obvious that the south side of the district was much more chatty; he could see Hide struggling to extract himself from parental concern and chatter every time he left a store, his hair more ruffled and boyish with every older couple whose fussing clutches he escaped. Six units to Kagami, four units to Hide; ten to Kagami, seven to Hide; twelve-eight, et cetera…

Finally, he found himself in the doorway of the café-bar. The unusual quality of this unit was the fact it actually had a door, a sealed-wood, gorgeous sliding shutter unlike the open stores practically spilling their wares and services onto the central paved walkway on tables and seats. A few seconds were necessary for Kagami to squint and parse the Chinese characters that made up the name, until he realised it only read ‘café’… And _katakana_ for the name of a dessert. _Kissaten Ronbaba_ … Rhum-baba? Well… it did read ‘café-bar’ in English letters on the sign over the second unit, so he supposed that linked to the bar…

Realising that he’d held the shutter a few inches open while deciphering the signage, Kagami shook his head to get himself back to Earth and let himself in. During the moment it took for a waitress to notice him and approach, he glanced around; even the interior felt polished and clean, all round tables and wooden furniture, crochet doilies adorning surfaces and a daily chalkboard menu propped up on the bar counter at the back of the store. It was unstaffed, perfectly-stocked with wineglasses from the frame of the bar and customer-labelled spirit bottles lurking amongst whiskies.

“Welcome, customer- or, ah,” the young waitress stopped herself, eyeing up Kagami’s frame and spotting the embroidered fire department patch, “Mr… Fireman? Right?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s Kagami. I’m from the Setagaya Fire Department, just here to do a few routine checks, if that’s alright. Did you get notified this morning about…?”

She nodded vigorously with cheer, and waved towards the back of the café where a two-way back door could be seen, the sleeve of her baggy blouse flapping behind her neat apron. “Yes, we were waiting for one of you! Or at least me and the boss were, heheh. Would you like a coffee while you’re looking around?”

Kagami raised his eyebrows. Lucky! Hide didn’t know he got the short end of the stick! “Please, yeah! I got kinda thirsty talking so much today.”

“Then just go ahead, I’ll let everyone know you’re here and get it ready for you.”

“ _Sankyuu_.” The waitress broke into a grin, and skipped off to stick her head into the back door and behind the bar, preluding that “the public services visitor is heeeere!” just ahead of Kagami walking through the bar.

Actually, before he’d even thought about entering the kitchen area, it struck him just how high the ceiling was – he didn’t feel penned in very much in the building. A handful of customers were peppered through the seating area, one on their own in a hoodie, two other middle-aged couples loaded with paper shopping bags at their feet enjoying drinks in cups and saucers. Maybe teatime was coming to an end, Kagami thought, they probably don’t open the bar for a couple of hours yet. The till was definitely behind the bar along with a bank card reader… the lack of attendance to the cash area felt very trustworthy, and peaceful. It was a relaxing atmosphere that shattered just as soon as he pushed open the door to the kitchen, and stood face-to-necktie with a giant speaking in a drone right over his head.

“Kae-chin, boss went home already, so like, what do you want me to…”

“H-Hey now, careful.” Kagami blurted out, edging back half a step, before glancing up at the wall of white uniform that blocked his path.

Violet eyes slowly lowered and met his gaze.

_Damn it._

“Ah… it’s the aggressive guy again.” The same chef as the day before murmured as though thinking aloud, like the firefighter was a bug on the floor. Kagami instantly scowled, but toned himself down, schooling the expression into a more neutral look.

“Hey there, sir. Sorry for the um, trouble yesterday. I’m here just to complete some checks, staff training, equipment and whatnot so I won’t be long in here.”

“Kae-chin, tell him only staff are allowed in the back area.”

He was getting really sick of this guy speaking over his head like he was a child – something he hadn’t experienced in – decades, probably – but at least the kind waitress seemed to have his back, chirping from the bar side of the café’s floor amongst clinking of china, “He is allowed! Sorry, Kagami-san, Chef Murasakibara doesn’t like strangers in his space. It’s okay, he doesn’t bite! Go ahead!”

Murasakibara, huh. Now he felt much more like he was on even ground with the other man. A smug smile slowly breaking across his face, Kagami quirked his eyebrows and made to step into the kitchen.

“Like I said, sir, won’t be long. I need to take a quick look around, alright?” He got a pen out of his pocket and jostled a clipboard – taking a leaf out of Harada’s book – to seem really bureaucratic about it. Murasakibara’s low-lidded eyes went from boredom to displeasure, but nonetheless he bowed back very slightly to let the firefighter in. The freedom of personal space ceased almost immediately, because as soon as the door swung shut, Kagami felt the chef loom behind him like a shadow.

“…Um, if you’re worried I’m gonna touch anything, don’t bother, I’m. I’m _looking_.”

Murasakibara hummed, whether in acknowledgement or disbelief, Kagami didn’t know or care to question. For a few minutes it felt like dragging a corpse along on his back as he crouched to look beneath counters and around corners, until the only low beam in the ceiling bumped Murasakibara’s chef’s hat off his head, sending him stooping to pick it up with a quiet grumble and sulking back at his own cooking counter with only the odd slap of dough on the floured steel surface to interrupt Kagami’s thoughts.

Thankfully they seemed to have everything they needed in an appropriate location: a fire blanket by each stove, an alarm under its glass wall-case; Kagami couldn’t stand the burning of those violet eyes in his back as he worked. He ticked boxes, scribbled some notes, and ducked out of the kitchen, not caring to look back at Murasakibara’s glare in the gap of the swinging door. The smell of dark-roasted coffee welcomed him before he turned to look for the waitress, Kae… whatever her name was… His gut told him to know better than to trust whatever Murasakibara called people. The young lady popped her head up from behind the bar.

“Thank you for waiting! Do you take cream and sugar?” She didn’t seem to be aware that Kagami’s heart nearly burst out of his chest at the shock of her sudden appearance; he hadn’t realised how tense he’d been beneath all his irritation at the chef.

“Yeah—uh, both, please.” She popped a white china cup positively brimming with dark coffee atop the counter, framing it with a cream jug and sugar bowl. He felt his stomach growl with the realisation that they’d managed to skip lunch amongst all the tea and snacks provided at the volunteer centre. Best to get the rest of the afternoon wrapped up fast. “Umm… sorry, what was your name again…?”

“Ah, my bad, it’s Kinoshita Kaede! I’m just a part-timer but I cover a couple days a week between boss going and the night shift!”

“The boss _going_?” Kaede didn’t seem to waver, her little pinched smile fixed. Kagami tried again. “Well, uh, Kaede…-san, I kinda need a manager or landlord to sign off a couple bits and show me some employee training records to finish up today. Would-” Internally, he sighed. “Would chef Murasakibara be the next... in charge…?”

“Eh? I think maybe, Himuro-san would be the one you have to talk to?” Kagami mentally breathed a sigh of relief as the waitress hopped out from behind the bar and wedged her pump into the kitchen door. “Chef Mura, assistant management is sort of Himuro-san, right?”

While Kaede got distracted by a clatter of kitchen tools and a strangely loud version of Murasakibara’s earlier drone, Kagami decanted all the cream and three sugarlumps and took his coffee by the saucer, relieved. He took a scalding sip and surveyed the café again. It really was quiet at this time… which felt strange, considering the other teahouses in the area didn’t seem to have been refurbished or even updated for years, still bearing some plasticky greyish interiors that were reminiscient of old electronics stores. Café Rhumbaba just felt warmer.

Although, when had the candles in jars appeared? On relatively bare tables, the odd bunch of flowers in vases had been replaced with tealight holders of various sunny colours.

Kaede appeared again at Kagami’s side while he was goggling at the decoration and gently pushed him back towards the seating, still peppy as when he set foot in the unit.

“He’s sulking, but when doesn’t he? Kagami-san, Himuro-san is just over here putting out the evening setup. We’re a little ahead of schedule I think so go ahead!” She pointed at a man at the far end of the room, holding a stick lighter in one hand and a basket of jars and candles slung over his other arm. Must have been the other guy sitting in a little distance from the couples, Kagami thought.

“Thanks! Cheers.” He lifted the coffee-cup in thanks and quickly headed for- Himuro-san, he guessed –

Only a step away did he notice the man’s face.

Of course, because his mouth was concealed by the donut held between his teeth, and his left eye, by a sweep of black hair.

The coffee cup clattered slightly on the saucer from a millisecond of unbalance. Surprised, the guy froze and looked up at Kagami.

His eyes—his eye was stone grey, piercing through him for a moment.

“Himuro-san,” Kagami practically barked out, steadying the cup with fingers in more control than they had ever known, “—right?”

Himuro stared for what felt like an eternity, then hummed a high note of alarm, jolted into action with the setting down of his cargo on the table and taking the donut out of his mouth, and held out his right hand. Equally shocked, Kagami started as though electricity raced through him and set down the saucer, clasping the offered hand in a secure handshake.

Himuro’s palm felt cool, his fingertips icy on the edge of Kagami’s hand.

“Good to meet you, I’m Himuro Tatsuya. The association said we’d have a fire service visit today…” His soft, hushed voice trailed off as the handshake came to its natural end. Kagami felt shellshocked in the second before he spoke again. “Oh—heck, my bad, I didn’t mean to just—haha,”

Kagami didn’t understand the trouble until Himuro’s laugh came out awkwardly and he inclined his head into—shit, a bow. Duh, a bow! In the attempt to catch up Kagami found himself jerking his head down even further.

“Me too, it was just my reaction!” He peeked one eye open and saw Himuro relax again, wearing a soft smile.

“Mmm, me too. Everybody teases me for greeting people American-style.”

Kagami grinned crookedly, hoping the awkwardness would ease off. “Nah, ‘s’fine. But uh—yeah, anyway. I’m Kagami Taiga from the Setagaya fire service.”

“ _Taiga_?” Himuro repeated, and Kagami could feel himself reel from embarrassment, or shame, or pure awkwardness maybe – that moment of disbelief was something he recognised from a childhood in the US where ‘Tiger, Tiger’ chants and golfer jokes were the miserable soundtrack to the schoolbus journey. His pain must have been visible because Himuro’s wide eye softened to a calmer, neutral look.

“Y—Yeah. Himuro…san, you’re the assistant manager, right?”

Himuro tilted his head and the fringe grazed the bridge of his nose. “Of sorts, yeah. I’m shift leader for the evening and close but I won’t start for an hour or so yet.”

“Oh, good.” Kagami cleared his throat. “Well, not like, ‘good!’, it’s not gonna take a whole hour, I know you got stuff to do…” There was a silence still when he finished. Damn, why did this one manager-type have to be such a good listener when he’d suddenly forgotten how to make sentences that didn’t sound stupid?! “I need to check a couple of documents so I can make a report. Can I see any fire safety training records or certificates for the staff… please?”

The studying expression Himuro wore changed to a task-managing kind of motivation. He rolled up his sweater sleeves and glanced around at what tables had left to be set up. “Sure, I’ll dig them out. Take a seat, Kagami.”

“Cheers.” Kagami pulled out a chair as the other man darted off out back. It wasn’t until he’d set the files down and lifted the coffee to his mouth that he realised his muscles were acheing, from how tense his entire body had felt throughout that interaction; even his nervous system was thrumming, like he’d just dodged a bullet. In the comedown from that strange spike his heartbeats felt too hard. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline after Himuro’s awkwardness. Or maybe just from a handshake itself?

He didn’t know. It was fairly strange—not for himself, but for somebody else—to instinctively jump to a handshake with a first introduction. Occasionally civilians would do it out of gratefulness… but more of a clasp with the bow.

His eyebrows knit as he sipped the coffee, gaze resting lazily unfocused on the half-eaten donut left on the table. Must be pre-shift snacking. Himuro re-emerged fairly quickly and waved a handful of folders with a small smile, announcing his presence by swiftly seating himself.

“What did you need from the documents, again?”

“Fire safety training records. …Please.” Kagami shuffled closer to the table as though preparing to be interviewed. Himuro nodded and thumbed through a plastic folder, then withdrew ten sheets with one pinch of his fingers.

“Mine, Atsushi’s, Kaede’s who are present today, Hiro who is on break, and—well, everybody. It’s a fairly new establishment so the qualifications ought to still be valid.”

“Ahh, that so? I’m just checking in case we need to reissue or schedule in any training, to be honest. We ain’t here to crack down or anything.” Kagami gave the papers quick scan as Himuro polished off his donut in two easy bites. “Seeing as all the equipment in your kitchen is intact and in date… and nobody else’s is… I sorta guessed you guys were new to the district. This all looks good, by the way.”

“Haha, really?” Himuro finally broke a smile as he took the documents back, tucking them into their file. “Well, thank goodness for that. If we dragged our feet for a second I feel like the association wouldn’t hesitate to lecture us on our standards or something.”

“Huh?” Kagami sounded out after a big gulp of more-creamer-than-coffee.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Right…”

The two fell silent, Kagami’s attention falling on trying not to dribble his drink everywhere under the heavy stare Himuro was—well, not giving him, but more giving the air in front of him, like he was zoning out powerfully. As if sensing the nervousness, Himuro’s gaze flicked upwards back to his face.

“Is there anything else you need to look at?”

Although his tone was soft, Kagami felt a sense of pressure. Pressure to leave? Glancing aside for his final swig of coffee, he shifted to his feet, chairlegs scraping on the floor a little too forcefully.

“N-No, I think that’s all. You’ve been a great help—“

“Aha, not a problem.”

“—And listen, um, Himuro-san—“

“Yes?”

The honest calmness and willingness to hear what he had to say on Himuro’s face—Kagami almost forgot how to speak.

“Listen, I just wanted to apologise for yesterday.” Himuro’s expression didn’t change. “Um, with your chef, during the evacuation.”

“…Yester—ohh…” Realisation seemed to dawn, but very tenderly, as though he’d just been told his child had been unruly in class. Kagami raced to clarify with slightly exaggerated gestures.

“I didn’t mean to be rude to him or to you, I kinda just blanked, ‘cause he wouldn’t give me a reason for not moving. The fire evacuation procedure here is that everybody moves to the fire assembly point but I couldn’t, basically, figure out… what…”

Himuro shook his head, a slightly pained smile showing through. “He’s just like that—stubborn as a mule. If it was a real emergency I’m sure he would have budged.”

Kagami grimaced. “We didn’t know that it wasn’t a real emergency, that’s the thing. I’d hate for him to get injured—or worse—if you weren’t there to, sorta, drag him away…”

“I’ll always make sure he evacuates, Kagami, you can be sure of that.” He found himself nodding vacantly, although the meaning hadn’t properly sunk in, so assured was Himuro’s tone. “Hey -- I’ll tell Kaede you enjoyed the coffee.”

“…Yeah, thanks, man. Sorry for intruding.”

“Pffft, ‘intruding’ – any time!” Suddenly a grin replaced the briefly stern expression Himuro held. “Six-month-review or something, right?”

“—Or something, yeah, heh. Take care.”

The door glided easily to let him back out onto the bustling arcade. Kagami looked to the final unit – Hide, finally caught up with him, waved from the second-to-last – but as he slid the door shut behind him, he swore he caught a glimpse of purple in the kitchen doorway.

He also couldn’t shake a strange feeling of menace for the entire journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *me, screaming*


	3. Chapter 3

It was cutting it close, yet the traffic lights were good to them the whole journey back with hardly more than a few seconds waiting at each stop signal. With the road signs gradually showing more exits to Setagaya, Hide began restlessly watching the flow of cars pass. Eventually, he broke the silence with a meek voice. “Hey… where’re you headed?”

Kagami adjusted the rear-view mirror with its dangling shoe-shaped charms. “Where d’you wanna get dropped off?”

“Well, like, _home_. We’re done for today. Chief said so.” Hide started fiddling with the glove compartment, making Kagami tut.

“Careful with that. Um, Kinuta district, right?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

There was barely a silence to be filled before the clicking of the glove compartment’s fastening began again.

“Don’t break it, man.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not going to!” Hide threw his hands up defensively. “It’s just, you know, really quiet!”

“Huh? No, it’s normal quiet. You talked the whole way here, Hide…”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, hey, maybe I talked a _normal_ amount, but either way, Kagami! I can’t tell if you’re tired or annoyed or something.”

“I’m not annoyed…”

“As if, you’re all stormy-brows over there.”

“That’s just what they do.” Kagami sighed, pulling onto the main exit for Kinuta with a queue of cars straight ahead. Paper rustled as Hide dug into his Maji Burger takeaway bag for scraps.

“My point being, it feels like something’s eating at you. Did you run into some trouble at Marigold or something? You can tell me.” He garbled through a mouthful of fries; a casual sense would surely lure his co-worker’s feelings out. “We’re like, the geriatric training squad now. We finally became pals over broken water extinguishers that peed instead of sprayed, Kagami. We have an unbreakable bond now. A bond… forged in the flames… of an air-conditioning unit.”

“Can it, man, we were already pals, that’s just cheesy.” But Kagami was chuckling, eyes firmly on the road, although he stuck a hand in the takeaway bag to retrieve a handful of fry-bits. “Not trouble, I guess. Just some oddballs.”

“Your speciality, right?”

“Everyone says that…”

Hide snorted. “’Cause it’s true. It’s like weirdoes flock to you. Not in a bad way, you get me? You’re not a strange one yourself, but it feels like… if there _is_ someone with a wild ego, they always go for you.” He retrieved a sauce packet, struggling to open it with his blunt thumbnails. “And I always get the impression you know how to handle them somehow. Me, I just panic. You saw me earlier! Getting all manhandled by that hairdresser!”

“Should’ve radioed for backup.” Kagami smirked.

“Changing the subject, huh?”

Kagami lifted his hands from the wheel for a second. “Guilty as charged.” Hide yelled until he slapped both palms firmly back on the wheel, laughing. “I don’t know. I don’t really know how to describe it, but there was some kinda tension in the air in that place and I feel like I got caught up in it somehow.”

“Family drama?”

“…I don’t think anyone there was related. Felt like the guys in there were just the same age as us.”

“Oooh…” Hide winced. “ _Employee_ drama. Always bad.”

“I guess. I mean, is it normal to get watched the whole time you’re there?”

“Was that the chef guy who nearly decked you last time? The mega-tall one?”

“Yeah. Murasakibara was his name.”

“Whew, long name for a long guy? I’m betting he’s just weird in the head and thinks the emergency services are a big conspiracy to learn where everybody lives and spy on them. Like, as if we haven’t already got citizen directories and Google for that kind of thing. Don’t worry about it, man, it just sounds like you’re thinking about it ‘cause we had to see them two days in a row. If you were back at work now you’d be thinking about some _other_ crazy guy.”

Kagami huffed. “Maybe. …Maybe you’re right, yeah.”

“’Course I’m right! Don’t sweat the small stuff!” Hide announced through a crunch of fries. “Damn, you’d be a tortured cop, thinking about every little detail all the time. Take it easy now and then. Think about how many extinguishers we have to order instead.”

“No thanks, that’s your job.”

“Auuugh, don’t remiiind me.”

“Heh. Don’t think about it then,” Kagami pulled up by Kinuta train station, checking the distance between the car and the curb. “You’re walking from here now, right?”

Hide looked bemused for a second, glancing around him with Maji Burger sauce on his fingers, then grinned. “Thanks, Kagami! I owe you one!”

“Hey, no problem, thanks for keeping me sane. See you later?”

“Thursday! Got my little girl’s appointment. Bring you dinner though. Later, man!”

“Later!” Hide slammed the door with saucy fingers, and Kagami wasted no time in pulling away from the slight build-up of commuter traffic.

Hide’s shift ended there, and he was off tomorrow… Naturally, because he had a family he wanted to spend time with. It still surprised Kagami from time to time that a teammate his age – barely college graduation age – was married with a baby already. It seemed to take those who created the work rota by surprise as well, since the change in hours and shifts had been so sudden.

Not that Hide was particularly organised with booking holiday, but like Kagami, he’d always taken night shifts since so many family-men were in their force.

It felt like maybe they’d start seeing new faces, or they’d change the part-timers’ hours. Eyes on the sky for a moment, Kagami considered that he still had time before his evening shift _technically_ was due to begin.

…Maybe Hide had a point. Think about something else, take his mind off trouble. Why not, if he had a few hours spare?

He turned back onto the main road and headed to the fire station. All he had to do was pray that Nadeko-san’s saintly patience wasn’t finally about to snap, and that Hide’s messy handprints hadn’t made a crime scene of the paperwork, and that would be that case all wrapped up and forgotten about.

\--

In a fire station with one minor call-out and bustling with excitable part-timers within the building rather than on trucks at sites, it was a miracle that Kagami still managed to nod off – at the grubby desk in the truck hangar, no less. A volunteer spotted him.

A second saw him dozing, too, and stood with the first, debating whether to take a photo or try to Buckaroo-style balance things on him.

The third volunteer left to check the rota and returned, puzzled. “He’s not even due in today, he’s marked as ‘on-site, 11 til 16’, so…”

The wits of three volunteers with time on their hands led to subtle photos of their co-worker, until the sound of pictures snapping on their phones made him stir. Like a big cat his awakening sound wasn’t a yawn so much as a rumble that made them leap back in anticipation and hilarity, but he only blearily stared into space – well, the sticker-labelled wall ahead of him.

“Wh—Time’s it?”

“Ten… ten PM.”

“…I overslept?”

“Kagami-kun,” the first volunteer, a kindly gentleman in his fifties, stepped a little closer to check what type of sleepy the young man was – drunken or overworked. “You were napping. Not on the job, but still napping at work. Are you alright?”

He squinted – rubbed his eyes—frowned, and burbled out, “Yeah, just—yeah. I had things to do…” And with a quick check under his folded arms, he saw his stack of reports, the topmost sheet with a slight crease in it. “I think I did them. Um. Nadeko-san in?”

The three looked at one another, one departing to consult the rota once more. “She went home at five.”

“Buhh. Oh well, it’s all here for tomorrow.”

“I heard you did overtime, but not like this.”

“Just a one-off.” Kagami rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and got to his feet. “S’fine. I’ll head home. Have a safe night, guys.”

“You too, Kagami-kun.” The younger volunteer waved him off on his way out of the hangar. “Don’t sleep at the wheel!”

Back in his car he felt like he couldn’t keep that promise, but he was going to try anyway. Irresponsible, maybe, yet he felt the autopilot in his body kick in, like it did often on the way home from work as though his consciousness was pumping all 24 hours’ worth of alertness into that one shift. All he had to do really was make sure his eyes stayed on the road. Fairly easy, since the streetlights on the way home were almost all bright LED lamps that burned into the cornea the later at night it got.

Earlier, Hide had kept him awake. Would it be bad to make a habit of having a passenger?

Tucked up in his driver seat, buckled in and ignition on and nothing but the hot air conditioning blasting, he ransacked his jacket for his phone. On at full battery he hit the most recent contact in his phone log, and set it on speaker on the dashboard.

He hoped that, unlike Hide, the voice would be soothing. A click cut off the brutal ringing tone.

“Good evening, Kagami-kun.”

“Hey, Kuroko. Sorry it’s late.”

The voice let out a short breath – like the softest sigh in the world. “It’s very late.”

“I guess. Then, sorry it’s VERY late. Gotta ask you a favour.”

“I hope it involves me staying exactly where I am, and not moving.”

“Heh, yeah, don’t worry ‘bout that. I was hoping you’d just kinda… keep me awake for the drive home.”

There was a pause. “Of course. Were you working early today?”

“Ish? On-site, but there was a lot of driving to get there…” Another pause that failed to fill in where Kagami trailed off. He grit his teeth anxiously, then sighed.

“And then I dropped my co-worker off, went into work, did more work, and fell asleep.”

“Kagami-kun, you should’ve committed yourself to working so much at high school, not for unpaid overtime.”

He groaned. “Sheesh, I know! I wanted to wrap everything up today so I could go home with a clear conscience, you know, sleep easy and all. Since I don’t start til four in the afternoon tomorrow.”

“Good for you, Kagami-kun. You’ll still be able to get your full eight hours’ rest.”

Kagami swallowed, sensing the cold in his friend’s voice. “…So… uh, how early does daycare start during term-time, again?”

“My alarm is set for five.”

“ _Yeeowch_.”

There was a shuffling sound over the audio; Kuroko’s bedsheets, if his lethargy and early-to-bed habits were to be relied on. “Would you like to talk about anything in particular?”

He shrugged, then remembered his friend couldn’t see him. Kagami hesitated for a second. “I had a really good cup of coffee today.”

“Is that so…”

“Yeah, a waitress made it for me while I was working.” Phone plugged into the charging jack, Kagami took a breath and gently began to pull out onto the road. “I just went for it with the creamer but I don’t think it really needed it.”

“Wow. I have never seen you drink it black. Kagami-kun, are you driving?”

Sweating, Kagami spluttered and tried to smooth it into a laugh. “’Course not.” But – hearing Kuroko grumble disapprovingly in the surround-sound audio of his car made him grin ear-to-ear. The ride home was going to be a piece of cake. “So listen, if I had to compare it to the breakfast deal americano at Maji Burger…”

\--

On the other end of Tokyo, a certain café-bar was preparing for close. Fairly easy and unusually early, as weeknights were rarely busy until the weekend began to loom on the horizon – but there hadn’t been a long-staying customer for at least an hour now.

Himuro watched the shadows of another gaggle of students pass through the paper shutter, and let out a small sigh. Perhaps they needed more signs out front, or more deals on the signs they already had. The entranceway lights were clearly on, unlike the rest of Marigold Way which had closed for business hours ago other than a small _oden_ stand at the opposite end.

He picked up another glass to inspect and polish it, as his co-worker shuffled backwards out of the kitchen beside the bar, a mess of scarf and jacket and undone shoelaces with a box of flattened cardboard in his arms. Himuro leant back against the back counter and smiled.

“Hiro, you can leave the recycling if you want.”

“Don’t sweat it, Himuro-san, I told you the recycling point is on my way home.”

“Ahah… well, if it’s ever too heavy, I won’t hold it against you for not taking it.”

“Nothing’s too heavy for me!” To prove his point, Hiro squatted and held the box aloft on his way out. “See you tomorrow!”

“Thanks for today. See you later.”

“Seeeeeya, Hiro-chin.” Mumbled a nasal voice from one of the tables barely in time for that second-to-last staffer to exit the building. With no kitchen fan whirring nor third person clattering about cleaning, Rhumbaba’s air was thick with silence.

Himuro took a soft in-breath, hanging up the wine-glass he’d polished to hell and back in its holder, finishing a long line of flawlessly clean glasses that could almost looked like very ordered Christmas bells. He wrapped the fluffy cleaning-cloth around his right hand and let his gaze lower from the far door to the only figure left in the café, head lolled in their crossed arms upon the doilies. “…Atsushi, don’t you want to go home too?”

“Not yet...”

“Why not?”

Murasakibara harrumphed from under his mop of hair splayed over his shoulders, blowing a few strands out of his face. “Because.”

“That’s not an answer, silly…”

Silence fell again, and neither of them moved to question or defend the point.

Surely Atsushi had to be exhausted at this hour, Himuro thought. Bakery involved getting up at the crack of dawn to have pastries ready for the morning rush, then cake aplenty for the lunchtime and teatime menus. That shift must have been at least ten hours spent working today, let alone the stretch of time between the fire service leaving and now.

And those naps he’d been taking out here and in the back room, he knew, didn’t really function in the intended way when it came to Atsushi. Sleep was sleep, and he was grumpy-dozy before, and grumpy-awake afterwards.

Himuro watched that huge back rise and fall gently with restful breaths, and clenched his fingers slightly inside the cloth.

“It’s nice of you to keep me company.”

“Mmm.” Came the thoughtful answer. Himuro sighed again. Weeks ago it had felt like he was being jilted when Atsushi replied like that; he knew now that the non-response was an acknowledgement. Still, it felt cold when he couldn’t determine the atmosphere.

“Feels like I’m being heard when I talk to myself, and such.”

“Mm…”

“Even if you are fast asleep the whole time.”

“Mmawake. See.” Gradually the chef tilted his head sideways in his arms to reveal only the top half of his face, eyes bleary but open, at least, staring directly at Himuro behind the bar. Suddenly, despite his shirt fastened up to the top button and waistcoat in perfect order, Himuro felt naked.

He dipped his head to laugh it off, bashful.

“I was joking, I know you’re awake.” Murasakibara shifted slightly more upright in his wooden chair but said nothing. “What time is it on your phone, Atsushi?”

“Eleven thirty… two.”

“You ought to be heading for the train station if you want to make it, you know.”

That comment drew Murasakibara even more upright, his hair finally falling with gravity to his shoulders. “Don’t like the train.”

“Oh, nonsense. You love sitting down sideways in the carriage.”

“Don’t like it this time of night.” He clarified slowly.

“Uh huh.” Himuro hit a button on the manual till, popping the cash drawer open. “But a cold car at this time of night is totally fine.”

“Yeah.”

He grinned over the bar. “Guess I’m giving you a lift, then?”

Murasakibara didn’t look away, but lowered his chin back onto the tabletop, much in the image of a tired bassett hound.  

Given that conclusion to the whole Atsushi-grumbling charade, Himuro shrugged, smiling tiredly. “Alright. I won’t take long cashing up. Don’t forget anything ‘cause when I lock up, I’m not heading back. It’s too cold outdoors to be going back and forth to the car.”

“I have everything. The driver is what’s slowing me down.”

“Big talk for someone on the open.”

Murasakibara remained quiet, only shifting to cushion his chin with sweater-layered arms as Himuro hauled the cash drawer into the back office, out of sight. He lifted his head as though to peer through the kitchen door’s window, but saw nothing, dropped his face into his arms again, and breathed out his anxiety.

No matter what anyone said about training or regulations, from that shift on, he had to make sure Rhumbaba didn’t attract any more unwelcome visitors.

\--

Kagami sat up awake in bed once more, his vision just a haze in the glow of streetlamps spilling onto his bedroom floor. With a slow wince, he yanked the curtains shut – must have forgotten to close them when he dragged himself in earlier. The digital alarm clock glared bright red numbers for past 3am; he found himself squinting at the display for seemingly ages, paralyzed, brain failing to swim past its sleep fog.

There must have been a reason for his body leaping alert with his mind lagging behind as badly as it was, but he wasn’t sure what to rack his brains for exactly. It didn’t feel like he’d been dreaming. Yet something was missing.

He wasn’t even hungry… But his feet itched to walk off the sleeplessness with a convenient trip to the kitchen. For once, his stomach didn’t follow the urge – and noticing that difference cracked his eyes a little more open.

He hadn’t felt real hunger in a couple of days, now. The emptiness for breakfast in the morning and the ability to snack was definitely in working order, however the craving for a whole meal was totally absent for the duration of the day… and the day before… Kagami frowned to himself, staring at a patch of mattress between his crossed legs. There was no way that that could be possible. Time to negotiate with his midnight-snacky system.

 _Milk_?

No, stomach didn’t like that.

 _Warm milk_.

…Didn’t sound all that appealing either.

_Warm milk… with a spoonful of Reese’s._

Huh, maybe.

_And a bag of chips. I have cool ranch AND soy sauce flavour._

Well…

_Plus a shot of whisky!_

Yes!

 _No!_ No liquor before a shift, no matter how late in the day! Physically shaking his head to himself seemed to dispel the bleariness and left him with mere confusion and an empty feeling… that still wasn’t hunger.

In the back of his mind were floating little snippets, like leftovers from dreams: he remembered something metallic that felt warm. Probably just the kind of thing that seemed unimportant in real life but that weird books about the subconscious liked to theorise about.

He mechanically touched the bedside table surface as though expecting to find something there, tapped his alarm clock to ensure the right alarm was set, checked his phone for messages. Nada.

God, maybe Hide was right and he was some kind of tortured cop. In a real sense, he could say it was… anxiety, or something, except for the complete lack of a cause. High school had him dreaming about resitting exams on repeat; the night before basketball matches were totally sleepless; then the first couple of weeks of probation with the fire service had been torture with how often he stared at the ceiling mumbling regulations and procedures to himself. Belated anxiety couldn’t be a thing, could it? He’d already gotten his permanent contract at work so what was there left to worry about? Future mistakes?

As if he thought deeply about the future. All that bore importance was keeping on top of rent and bills and his car’s MOT… maybe the annual trip to the US to see his parents which, in all honesty, only required a month’s notice so he could get the time off. His coworkers may have started families or worked at their careers for years but that melancholy tension reared its ugly head in the most critical call-outs: would this job leave one of them injured? Gravely injured? Would a life end in their arms or from a distance? Would he have to carry such a weight back with him?

If something so terrible happened, what would he actually do?

In the empty darkness, Kagami realised for the first time that he didn’t really have a plan. Despite the rigorous safety drills and that he repeated countless times during public fire safety training, there was nobody under the ‘In Case of Emergency’ placeholder in his wallet nor in his phone’s contacts. Couldn’t exactly put coworkers there; they would probably be the ones pulling him out from under the rubble in the first place. His parents were stuck in a different country so that ruled them out… as financially feasible as it was for them to zip to Japan, would he want them to go to the trouble, after all those times Dad had to return to head up his business again? They’d have to learn eventually, but as an immediate reliable ally… A no-go.

Frowning, Kagami mentally trawled through his social circles. It stopped at high school – middle school, junior high, those were all back in L.A. and as far as he was aware, everyone had stayed on that side of the globe. The most reliable people based in Japan were certainly his _senpai_ from basketball club, but despite swapping email addresses at their graduation, there hadn’t been much contact. Could he just call from a hospital bed expecting Coach to arrive with an ice-pack and honey lemons? Even if it was something treatable with only that amount of streetball first-aid, she’d likely be put out… He had no idea what she and the other _senpai_ were up to, other than remaining in Tokyo for studies.

Truthfully he’d thought about asking Kuroko from time to time, however it didn’t seem as though there was much the guy could do if he got turned into barbecue and rushed to the hospital. Other than the occasional stay at his rich pal’s pad he didn’t get around much, didn’t drive, and slept early nights. But he had been there for him since he came back to the US and during all of those terrible later-teen years in high school; he’d seen his injuries and his rashness first-hand, knew how to talk him out of stupid actions, so he was certainly at the top of his list.

Time to make a positive change in his life, then, _yeah_!… he’d better ask him tomorrow at a friendlier time of day.

 _Wait… wouldn’t wording it be awkward_ , Kagami thought. Most people would put a significant other or a parent and Kuroko, as solid of a bro as he was, didn’t hold a place near either of those things. Although his concern for others and time spent in a daycare were some qualities that pushed him towards parenthood. _Hey, Kuroko. You know how you’re substitute Mom to loads of kids for pay? Can you be my Mom In Case Of Emergency but not get paid for that ‘cause it’d be weird if I did? I promise you won’t have to sign my school diary or mash bananas for me but if I fall off a building and turn into mashed firefighter you might have to do insurance papers or legalities and I trust you to write Chinese characters on the forms if my signature stamp actually did get lost behind the fridge like I think it did._

_Get real, 3am brain._

Before he could start picturing and playing out the situation, his dry eyes peered at the clock display. It had only been about four minutes’ worth of introspection even though his brain felt like it had run a mile.

Guess the rest of the night was about to be a mental marathon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm, food.


	4. Chapter 4

Cherry blossoms seemed to have burst into life like fireworks across Tokyo overnight. The stretch of the Arakawa was said to be lilac from the sky, sprinkled with its confetti of pink and delicate white petals. Over in Setagaya, the trees that lined station boulevards and landmarked the wide parks were vibrant, almost surreal patches of colour once out of the grey-and-white city centre.

And like fireworks, they attracted dozens of people, and lots of hubbub.

It had been a struggle for Kagami simply to make his mid-afternoon commute, between great big gaggles of pupils on zebra crossings pouring directly towards the green spaces and visitors coming from the inner city to the slightly clearer outskirts, dawdling on curbs – not to mention the rushed cleaning job of unsticking his windscreen wipes from their coating of petals. Barely two steps landed him inside the fire station when the alarm sounded, and Kagami found himself sardined with Kurosawa and the senior Nakayoshi in the back of a fire van. Trucks had all been dispatched. The three of them had the largest frames in the whole unit – as they were soon discovering, elbows meeting uncomfortably at each swerve on the road. Nakayoshi eventually coughed to break the silence, rapping at the glass dividing them from their driver, Morishita.

“If you’re gonna drive like that, you’d better put the sirens on to warn people on the road.”

Their fourth teammate called back, somewhat muffled, in a chirpy tone. “Oh, nuts, I forgot!”

Instantly the siren came alive with its piercing blare surrounding them, Nakayoshi slouching back in his seat in despair at his joke falling flat. Kurosawa patted his arm.

“To be fair, I didn’t know it was that urgent a call today either. Incinerator left on full blast… it’s out of control, but not gonna spread.”

Nakayoshi shook his head. “Nice weather makes people forgetful and lazy. Heaters left on, non-burnables in the incinerator, sunlight hitting dusty cars… Cigarette butts are gonna outdo the blossoms in Ueno, I tell you. Last year was worse since the wind drove away all the clouds and it made for sunny weather and, well, a couple of old dead trees blowing sideways along with all the usual lack of courtesy.”

“I remember that, that was when I started… I mean, everyone was safe in the end and only a chunk of the elementary school under it had to be rebuilt,” Kagami shrugged, “but there were so many grandmas in tears around us ‘cause the tree was older than they were... They were all, trying to take a handful of flowers to press them in its memory.”

“I remember you telling them that spring was a time for new beginnings.” Nakayoshi replied, stone-faced to draw out Kurosawa’s disbelief, much to Kagami’s shock.

“I did _not_!” But Kurosawa was already snorting as his older teammate stared him down, silently smug in his lie’s success. A sudden swerve shook the men once more, and after another unpleasant blip of the siren, scrambled audio came through the radio in the driver’s compartment. In their alert silence they heard him okay the signal and reset the siren.

After its next rise and dip, Nakayoshi tapped to get Morishita’s attention. Unable to drive and shout behind him during the siren’s whine, he grabbed his radio handset that relayed through the cabin’s speaker.

“Two more spots in this area after the incinerator, folks,” Morishita stated, “Minor grass flare on the corner of the park by the business district then investigate smoke from a detatched house.”

Nakayoshi looked grim at his jinxed future prediction. “To think it’s only the first day of flower-viewing.”

Only a handful of corners and two more screaming corners were necessary to take them to the first blaze; they quickly suppressed it with enough layers and mettle and barely managed the confirmation call before Morishita practically dragged them back into the van. Thankfully the park fire was extinguished by viewers and nearby shopkeepers, and thirdly the smoke lead…

Despite being completely correct – yes, an unattended gas stove caught alight, medium heat for making pasta, left by a housewife if the gossip circulating the neighbouring homes were anything to go by – Nakayoshi didn’t seem very pleased about it, silent for the entire mission aside from ‘roger’s to communications. Kurosawa lifted his mask the second he exited the property and gasped for fresh air. “She’s going to regret the lino flooring,” he grumbled as the other two finished up, dusting their protective suits off as though it would dispel the horrid scent of burnt plastic. Even Morishita was pinching his nose over at the van, surrounded by a pale-looking gaggle from the neighbourhood watch. At least all of the damage was mostly cosmetic… if anything it would cost the poor woman a small fortune in redecoration.

Under the sunlight, Kagami felt like he was slowly being baked inside his suit, but he couldn’t remove it until they returned back inside the van – he wasn’t publically presentable, his lightweight fire service casuals drenched in sweat beneath the protective layers.

He lumbered his way up the path to the few curious mothers and grandparents drifting around Morishita, who had the vehicle’s comm radio in hand with its cord stretched through the window. He looked across at him.

“All done?”

“Think so.” Huffed Kagami, quickly making eye contact with the surrounding civilians with a little lift of his eyebrows as greeting – they seemed to take it as both intimidating and charming, the elders in particular holding their children for support. Morishita smiled and nodded.

“Good stuff. You ready for another run?”

“Seriously?” The sweat running down his back turned cold for a second. “Where?”

Seeing the momentary alarm on his face, Morishita waved his free hand in dismissal. “Calm down, not a fire, no accident.” Kagami deflated like an old balloon. “No, I think HQ wants a favour, if you can make it back with an hour left on shift.”

“Well—sure, alright, what do you need?”

Nakayoshi removed his mask beside him with a hard frown, looking somewhat more official than his taller yet younger co-worker, what with Kagami’s slight sheen in the glint of sunlight and a mildly-enamoured neighbourhood granny approaching his side. “Who’s borrowing him?”

“Technically Hide… He says the delivery’s arrived at Nihonzutsumi for Marigold Way and that we’re the closest unit able to transport it right now. Any idea what that’s for, Kagami-kun?”

Delivery – so that meant that the equipment supplier had come through for a minor order in under a week, what a shock. Although this delivery schtick was probably a matter of cost and convenience together, and saved the need for another fireman on a different day... All eyes on him, Kagami suddenly sensed that his breathing had evened out at last, no longer feeling like an astronaut boiling on the pavement.

Or… no. He’d simply forgotten to take more breaths while his co-worker was speaking. The sweat could have frozen into droplets on the back of his neck in that moment.

“Yeah, I know the route, we went to kit out a volunteer station together… and the district… Right.” The pause he took to swallow with a dry throat felt like an awkward silence. “So uh, where’m I meeting him?”

“Think you’re taking this van, lad, exchange us for the delivery at ‘Zutsumi. We’ll take the truck heading back and you can bring the van to Setagaya with you.”

Kagami’s vivid eyes narrowed slightly with the attempt to visualise the road from this chunk of Tokyo. It was pretty simple; the panicky signals his body was giving him didn’t make sense. “Got it.”

Morishita held Kagami’s gaze, ignoring his slow entrapment by slightly concerned grandmothers, and spoke into the radio. “Heading to Nihonzutsumi.” It crackled for a moment, then garbled Hide’s boyish tone back, “Seeya soon.” They peeled themselves away from the (perhaps _too_ concerned) neighbourhood gathering and jumped back on the road.

Eager to get the delivery checked and loaded, Kagami wasn’t permitted – well, didn’t particularly argue for but may have appreciated – the opportunity to shower in Nihonzutsumi Fire Department’s building. That was mostly down to Hide, admittedly, with his thorough manner when it came to the technical side of the job; he’d insisted on overseeing the unloading, the repacking, and the reloading of the boxes of cosily-wrapped fire extinguishers into the van so that they could be counted at height. He had been personally given the job by Harada so to an extent, Kagami understood his concern, but did he really have to watch his every move like a hawk?

“The fact that it arrived this fast even though it was for, you know… volunteers and some shops… And it wasn’t even company-funded… I don’t know, I feel like we had some real luck with this job from start to finish. It even looks like everything’s here undamaged.”

“Pretty much.” Kagami grunted from his squat in the station’s van park. Tallying up the order required most of his concentration right now, since most of the canisters looked the same from one side… and the serial numbers…

“This order is basically like my baby.” Hide continued in utmost seriousness, watching over his crouching co-worker, “And you, Kagami… are the midwife.”

“Ummm…” Alright, everything added up and nothing _looked_ dented- “I don’t get it but I don’t like the image…”

“Other than my wife, my little girl’s midwife is the second most important woman in the world to me!” Hide announced proudly across the car park, jabbing a thumb at his chest.

Kagami stared at him. “But I’m—“

“—Oh shit, if _she’s_ second, then… Sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean it! You’re the original number one in my life…!”

Sighing and straightening his legs out to upright, Kagami rolled his tense shoulders. “Midwife or midhusband or midfirefighter or whatever, I’m just gonna drop it all off then head back to base. That’s what everyone agreed on, right, Hide…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” They looked the rows of extinguishers up and down in the back of the van. “Setup in the units too if you can.”

“Of course, standard procedure, right?”

“Heh, for such a flexible guy you sure keep those regulations to heart.”

Sweat rolled down from where it had clung to Kagami’s hairline, chilly now in the evening breeze. He couldn’t tell if that remark was a compliment or simply Hide’s chatter gone wild again. He dusted his knees off and rolled up his sleeves. “Something like that. See you later.”

\--

By the time he’d battled through the rush-hour traffic and a toll, the sun was toying with Arakawa’s skyline beyond the municipal buildings of Nishi-Nippori, casting long and warm streaks of cloud across the sky. Against the clear blue and the drifts of cherry and plum-blossom petals here and there, it made for an artistic setup that his white-and-red van seemed to blend into once threading his way through those greyish blocks.

While shadows elongated and the van’s headlights grew brighter the closer he drew to the district, Marigold Way glowed with its old bulb lamps beneath its curved roof. Compared to the rest of the streets it looked like some glamourous late-night shopping experience. In the chill of the shade as he parked, Kagami thought of Christmas markets, though the season was wrong and the snow was pink… and made of flowers… Well, the lights were romantic, or something.

First stop was the volunteer station, to notify them of the delivery and kit out their little hut. Then he figured he’d whip out the wheelie-cart and play deliveryman. That was fine; his fresh casual shirt was navy, found bundled-up clean in the van under a hose (replaced by the sodden suit and polo from earlier on the floor of the vehicle), and he wore the fire department jacket loosely tied around his waist. If you ignored the silver reflective strips on the trouser-legs he could have probably passed as a courier, right?

But the ten-minute walk to the station proved futile: it was empty. Securely locked, at least – that was more than some volunteers bothered to do in the less-plush wards – lights off, and unstaffed. Kagami huffed his way back to the van and, armed with a safety cutter, extracted only the pair of fire extinguishers for the Way’s association office and held them like barrels under one arm. Shoppers were still very much wandering around the district; the office _had_ to be open…!

So he headed down through the district, immediately hit by the warmth that wafted forth from each open-fronted unit – looking around showed him shopkeepers stood firmly by heating units and standing radiators, still greeting, but not emerging from their warm havens to chat up customers – it sent goosebumps up his bare arms. It… really was Christmassy-cosy. Only, did anyone have any idea how it came across, to blast the heating like that in April? Just wear a sweater, Kagami thought, as he knocked on the inner wall of the grocer’s to announce his presence. The older gentleman from last time – well, officially the fire marshal, right?—slowly turned around from stacking empty plywood apple boxes, and peered at him.

“Kagami-kun, isn’t it? My, what a surprise to see you today. Thank you so much for all your work last time…”

Taken aback by how perfectly the grocer had remembered his name and face, Kagami stammered in a high note, coughing to bring his voice down to its normal tone. “H-hello, sorry for the intrusion, um, sir…”

As if he was his own kindly grandfather, he smiled back at Kagami and walked closer, tiny and bent compared to the fireman’s stature. “Don’t worry about formalities. You’re doing good work and helping everybody out. Are you here to drop all of that off for us?” he pointed towards the canisters with a small gesture, and Kagami practically leapt aside, momentarily having forgotten he was even carrying them.

“Yeah, yes, that’s right, this one’s for this unit here, and we actually got the delivery to fit out the volunteer fire station too but I dropped in and nobody was there…”

“Is that so…? They must have closed up. Sorry that you had to come such a way…”

“Oh, not a problem, I have stuff to deliver for the rest of the district too.”

“For the whole district…!” The fire marshal wondered aloud, scratching the top of his bald head. Kagami felt pressured to ease his surprise.

“B, but it’s alright, I’m wheeling it all out myself tonight before Marigold Way closes, if that’s… if that’s okay with you, grandpa.”

The grocer looked thoughtful. “Everyone should be here for another thirty minutes… maybe more, maybe less…”

He flashbacked to the painfully vague back-and-forths he overheard between this gentleman and Hide when they last visited. Kagami firmly threw himself into a decision – if he waited forever, he’d have to take the delivery back with him, after the whole journey here... “Perfect. Then, can you let me into the office so I can set this up and get started?”

“Ah, alright. Nanaba-san!” The fire marshal’s voice was tender, but a tone of questioning had a middle-aged man in an apron bursting forth from the opposite baker. Kagami was impressed at the respect he seemed to have garnered here as… what, head grocer? “Would you kindly look after this while I go with the fireman…?”

“Leave it to me!” the baker saluted and stood at the entrance of his unit directly in front of the grocer, smiling. Grandpa – well, the fire marshal – smiled softly up at Kagami.

“Shall we get started?”

In a stroke of luck there had already been fittings inside the tiny office holding an old extinguisher canister, and Kagami had the tools needed to refit the new one at his belt. The grocer’s did not, but the equipment’s accompanying instructions plaque and fitting were enough for the plaster wall, and they kindly allowed him to store the station’s equipment by the crates.

After that, there were only… well… twenty-three shops left to visit in the twenty-eight-unit shopping rows. He’d noticed some shops spanned two units and one was permanently closed, and the delivery added up perfectly. Kagami unloaded the delivery onto the cart and began his work starting from the baker’s.

But as the evening drew on, he could see shoppers beginning to disperse, and wasn’t sure whether it was the drag of time or the evening driving people home. The minute he’d thanked the shopkeepers and removed old fittings and parts, they’d seemed to turn off the heaters and begin pulling down the shutters.

Oh God – was he holding people up but they were too polite to say anything?

The thought made him inject haste in his step, lightly jogging between units and beginning to unwrap the packages in his arms as he walked. It took four units’ worth of this routine before he noticed the initial uncertainty (or maybe intimidation) in shopkeepers’ looks turn to amusement at seeing him zip about, such a big guy in cramped shop corners.

Unit 11-A, a jeweller’s, had the first staff member to speak their thoughts aloud.

“Why don’t you take it easy? You’re not exactly nimble.”

Like a blow to the chest, Kagami felt embarrassed and winded at the same time, looking up red-faced from where he was crouched screwdriver in hand in the furthermost corner of the bridal necklaces section. “Huh?”

“That’s what I mean, honey,” The young lady smiled from her perch behind the sales desk and waved a pen to indicate his tomato-like expression. “Tiring yourself out like that, anyone would think you’re rushing to get home. It looks tough for a guy your size to do this in every shop.”

He sweated, and realised that probably wasn’t an appropriate response to her languid comments. “Well—I wanna get it all done during opening hours, I guess.”

The jeweller laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, the alley doesn’t close for another hour on Thursdays. Everyone’s just shutting up shop ‘cause it’s quiet. They do what they please if they’ve made a profit today.”

“…Huh?”

But she just chuckled again and turned back to marking up her catalogue. Left alone from her criticism Kagami turned dumbly back to the wall fixture and continued setting up the extinguisher point. In the quiet of the empty shop and the soft chatter from neighbouring units, he contemplated the concept of shops closing early just because they want to. Inner Tokyo didn’t do that… not even the quieter Setagaya did. Companies had regulated hours, surely. That was why people had those precise times on their A-boards, like ‘8:01 til 17:59’, right?

Marigold Way sure was a strange one. It wasn’t even a village or a dead part of Tokyo – heck, those main lines passed through the train station and there were universities in sight from this area – but every part of the district seemed staffed by over-40s, and people behaved as though everybody they would ever need to speak to were already in their lives. Tokyo’s wards on the whole seemed used to the concept that every other person on the street was a visitor, a tourist, a non-public-facing official, a stranger. In this bubble, maybe ‘community’ meant ‘routine’, ‘familiarity’.

Kagami stood up from his completed work, head full of thoughts. “Oh my, done already?” the shopkeeper chirped from her desk without moving her eyes from her literature.

“Yeah, ‘s’all set up. Should I show you how to use it in case of emergency?”

“Thank you, hon, but I can read those instructions if I need to.” She finally turned and winked from under her dark curls. “You’ve got more on your plate tonight, haven’t you.”

For some reason her tone made him blush and he quickly offered a tiny head-bow and showed himself out, tools in place and slightly paint-dusted on the knees. Just one shift’s work was maxing out his ability to respectfully cope with flirty older ladies.

Only a small stack of canisters remained on the cart parked outside the jeweller’s; enough for the record shop, the florist, the pet store, clothing repair… and the two-unit café-bar, with its late closing hours. Kagami was grateful that Rhumbaba’s screen seemed to be kept shut. He didn’t fancy being ogled by the purple giant while he worked on the other units. Hundreds of pairs of googly goldfish-eyes were honestly preferable.

Those final few units all seemed as laid-back as the jeweller had been, mostly leaving him to do his fixtures with the odd snatch of conversation. The gruff old tailor in the embroiderer’s quizzed him on his uniform’s printing and stitching as he stuck plaques next to industrial sewing machines, while the ambiguously-young record seller piped up with “Boys 2 Men? Def Leppard? Z. Z. Top?” through his thick beard every time Kagami paused to reach for another nut or screw.

His wheelie-cart was lightly loaded with Rhumbaba’s share of equipment; slightly more than the other units, destined for the kitchen area. If the purple bouncer was going to let him in to affix it all properly, anyway. Kagami took a breath to encourage his heartbeat to even out, and carefully slid the shutter open with his right hand.

“Evening…!” he called out, volume halting halfway through the word at what he saw.

Unlike everywhere else in the arcade, Rhumbaba’s seating area was _packed_. Every round table seated a customer, in a group if not alone, and the thrum of conversation -- Kagami found himself staring at the blend of demographics he’d felt lacking all day. Students had textbooks splayed open amongst tea sets and stacked empty cake-plates; one or two older shoppers sat with teacup in one hand, newspaper in the other, shopping tote-bags nesting at their chair-legs. Even now, at barely gone half seven, the bar had a few workers tucked up on the bar stools with beer glasses and coffee-cups.

Kagami stood unsure in the wedged-open doorway, attracting the glance of a mother with her toddler at the nearest table. It was either stand here and let the cold in, or bring all the junk in and just go for it despite the cosy atmosphere of the café.

He was a fireman, damnit, not a deliveryman – the core of the service was looking out for citizens, whether that meant saving them from a blaze or protecting them from the cold. Was that embarrassingly noble? Kagami’s mind echoed Hide’s words back at him – _“you sure keep those regulations to heart”_ \--  and he huffed, mentally shrugging it off. So he liked to do the right thing. The Way’s staff seemed bent on gently mocking him anyway.

In turning, he slid the door open enough to wheel in the cart backwards and shut it behind him, looking over his shoulder for the waitress from last time. Enough squinting earned him a glimpse of Kaede’s brown ponytail bobbing as she darted between tables to take back crockery and through the kitchen’s swing-door; a man, sporting a crew-cut and dressed in the same apron as her, leant on his elbow at the side of the bar and seemed to be chatting to whoever was staffing it, out of sight behind the customers upon stools.

Well, he wasn’t going to assume his presence alerted itself to the staff. Leaving the cart in its place at the door Kagami carefully wove a path between the least-populated tables until he reached the bar, the waiter languidly glancing up at him with a smile on his face from the conversation.

“Can I help you, sir?”

What a casual tone… Kagami inwardly sighed in relief. “Evening, sir. I’m Kagami from Setagaya fire department – don’t think I met you when we dropped in last…?”

“Heh, I thought you were a courier for a second with that cart back there. Thinking we don’t get deliveries these late anymore.” The waiter grinned at Kagami and leant off the counter, standing somewhat more formally. “I’m Hiro. What can we do for ya tonight?”

“I just-“ Kagami began, lulled quicky into Hiro’s sense of calm, then jolted at the loud slam of the kitchen door whirling open and Kaede’s voice spilling joyfully into the air.

“Kagami-san!! I didn’t know you were coming in today!” Despite the smudges of patisserie cream on her apron and a tea-leaf in her fringe, she seemed bubblier for the busy atmosphere. Kagami breathed in and nodded down to her.

“Hi again. Uh, I’m here to,” For a moment he wasn’t sure who to address, the controlled Hiro or excited Kaede nearly bouncing at his feet, “Just gotta drop off some spare equipment in your kitchen and back office – I know you already have everything you need set up, but my colleague ordered extra as a backup in case you use any.”

“No worries, there’s more than enough room out there.” Hiro nodded and pointed a thumb back at the kitchen door. Kagami paused gingerly.

“Any, uh, staff members I’m gonna be disturbing?”

Both staff members seemed thrown and looked at him quizzically, then at each other – then Kaede tapped a fist on her palm in a lightbulb moment. “Ah! Chef!”

Although the mention of him made Kagami want to burn up with embarrassment of even being slightly unhappy about confronting the 7-foot monster, Hiro and Kaede merely dissolved into relaxed laughter. “Ahhh, yeah, him.” Hiro sighed. “Yeah, nah, he went home ages ago. Can’t believe you already met him!”

Kagami rubbed the back of his neck, finding his palm stick with old sweat. “’Met’ or ‘ran into…” The distinction made Kaede cover her smile as she relaxed and dipped behind the bar.

“Heheh, I guess Chef Mura is sort of like a mountain bear when he’s grumpy, right? All territorial…”

“Kaede-chan, didn’t your shift finish ten minutes ago?”

She laughed slightly nervously at the sudden change in topic, Kagami could tell even from her echo behind the bar. “Well, I just wanted to catch up on potwash so you and Himuro-san wouldn’t have to…”

“We don’t have homework to do, high-schooler! Go home!” Hiro half-bellowed and spun her towards the kitchen, much her giggly protest and Kagami’s mild shock – but Hiro jerked his head at him, indicating the cart.

He raced to the remaining equipment and wheeled the cart along the straight walls to the back area. Kaede brushed past him on her way out of the office, a scarf and a hoodie concealing her smart-casuals. “I made you a coffee, it’s on the cake station.” She whispered with a wink before darting out of the café, waving.

“Yeah, get outta here! Scram!” He heard Hiro cheerfully jeer as the kitchen door swung closed behind him.

The staff were right: there was an entire lower shelf free in the office area, beneath stacks of paper and document-folders, where he could wedge in the packed-together extinguishers. One of the folders stood out to him as the employee one he’d seen before. A quick scan of the place showed the same in-date equipment fixed at the right stations, so that was nice news to report back to Hide.

Now if he knew where the… ‘cake station’ was… Kagami wondered if that was the chef’s workplace. Not that he had been able to fully memorise the kitchen’s layout what with the distraction of being watched. But the aroma of dark-roast coffee was unmistakeable, and it took barely a glance around and his nose’s intuition to seek out the coffee, in a cup and saucer – even creamer and a packed of sugar placed next to it like before.

He felt an invisible weight lift off his chest and off his shoulders, and breathed in the warm scent. Kindness. Pure kindness from a part-timer. That was a different kind of generosity than a free ketchup packet thrown in by the Maji Burger staff.

Holding the cup by its saucer, he backed out of the kitchen to a quietened café. Most of the shoppers had gone, and a few friend-groups were taking their time packing up their belongings, tables clear of dishes. Hiro broke off from his conversation again to look across at Kagami. “Finished back there?”

“Yeah.” He pushed the cart a few more feet out of the way of the door with his spare hand. The waiter sighed and rolled up his long sleeves.

“Guess it’s finally time for me to do some work, eh?”

Kagami grinned back and stepped aside to let him past and tackle the washing-up. But as for himself… the round tables, dotted with their lovely candle-holders, felt a little too sweet to have a sweaty fireman dump himself on the antique chairs. The bar had some stools free to the left of the two workers still mulling over their beers; still balancing his coffee, he stepped along and slid it onto the counter, carefully taking a seat facing the bar.

Himuro raised his head a foot away and may as well have punched Kagami in the throat for how quickly his heart jammed itself up there.

 _What should I say? What should I say? I didn’t know he was in!_ The lump in his throat felt like it was cutting off all brainpower as well as breath, and it took all of his effort to figure out a greeting in the split-second between the bartender standing up and noticing Kagami, a subtle flick of his head to cover his left eye with that fringe again.

“Hey.” Didn’t even choke. Nailed it!

“…Hey!” Himuro smiled back, eyebrow lifted in the mildest look of pleasant surprise. Kagami’s throat-lump turned into a rock. “Didn’t hear you come in. What’re you up to in Arakawa today?”

“Kinda got given deliveryman duty. The equipment for all the units came in today and I was the closest-by at the time…” He managed. Himuro tilted his head.

“At the time? Sheesh, you work late, do you?”

“More or less. Started at three…”

“Hmmm.”

Himuro’s thoughtful hum as he straightened up, polishing-cloth in hand, sounded like an assessment, for all the neutrality in its tone. For the first time Kagami noticed how slim the man was, shoulders framed by a button-up shirt and waistcoat.

“So it’s all been stored out back? Hiro let you in?”

“Yeah. And Kaede-san was nice enough to…” Kagami motioned to his full cup on the bar. Himuro grinned.

“I was thinking I didn’t remember making that. She treated you last time, too, didn’t she.”

Kagami reddened slightly. “Does she, uh, treat everyone?”

Unexpectedly, Himuro’s laugh came out like a snort. “When you put it like that-!” As he turned to put a spare glass and the cloth aside, Kagami fiercely attempted to swallow down his embarrassment. “Oh dear… More like, she enjoys being helpful. I’ll charge you next time if it makes you feel better.”

Kagami slapped a hand to his trouser pocket, flat and empty, and paled. “My wallet’s in the van-“

“No, no, oh, I was kidding, _Jesus_. It’s only a coffee.” The English word spilled out of Himuro like a fluid laugh as he continued moving glasses and cleaning taps. English. _English?!_

Never in his life since puberty had Kagami ever felt more confused, ashamed, worried, and excited than in that moment.

He took the bait. Okay, it wasn’t bait, but he decided to pounce on the excuse.

“Umm, I’ve been meaning to ask…” His careful wording had Himuro look up silently, waiting, from three feet down the bar. The pair further up the bar continued jostling one another as a rowdy background noise, down to the last inch of beer in their glasses. “…Are you, like… half?”

“Half…?”

 _Oh God, that was rude. That was the rudest thing to say. I fucked up._ As if years and years of being labelled a _half_ and a foreigner hadn’t taught him anything. Ask him if he dyes his hair and likes grape soda, why not. _Jesus Christ._

“Sorry, sorry, I meant, you seem to know English… like… in a non-classroom-kinda way, just call me curious I guess, but…”

Himuro lifted his hand to his chin thoughtfully, then frowned. “Last time-“ Then the memory resurfaced. “Ah—we shook hands last time, didn’t we?” The relief at having a common touchpoint flooded through Kagami, and instantly his hands sparked into life to gesture as he spoke.

“Yeah, to be honest, when you did that I was really surprised!”

“Well, me too – since you sort of went for it.”

“It’s habit!”

“Same here!”

Kagami grinned and finally went for his coffee. “So where’d you visit? Stayed there long, I’m guessing?”

Himuro whistled like an old man recalling his youth. “I actually spent… I guess, my whole childhood in the US.”

“ _No way_.” The coffee sloshed dangerously in Kagami’s surprise. Himuro’s grey eyes flicked across to study him, entertained. Realising his jaw had dropped open, Kagami set the cup down and righted his expression with a grin.

“I grew up on the West Coast.”

“ _Really?_ ” Himuro lilted into English again, to Kagami’s amusement and instant reply.

“ _Yeah_. _California?”_

_“L.A.!”_

_“Me too!”_

They both dissolved into gentle laughter on each side of the counter, unaware of the silent attention being paid suddenly by their company at the bar, their uncertainty lost over a backdrop of the mellow acoustic guitar playing from the bar stereo.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been able to chat like that!” Kagami grinned freely and hugged his arms at the bar. Their body language was worlds apart, Himuro leaning his spine against the back counter with a small smile, but the mood was nearly tangibly light and harmonious. “Me and my parents, they’re in the States most of the time but we speak in Japanese to each other so it’s not like I get to use it phoning them.”

“Oh, right…? I’ve got one friend there… but they’re fluent in Japanese, half the time they’re the one getting practice on me.”

“Haha, aww. Doesn’t feel like I’ve ever forgotten anything until I suddenly, just, have to speak it…”

“Your accent’s fine, I’ll tell you that.” Under Himuro’s gaze Kagami chuckled at the compliment. “Mine definitely goes under—Japanese grammar pushes everything else out of my head.”

“Tough, ain’t it.”

“ _For sure_.”

Kagami struggled to keep a straight face long enough to take a sip of coffee. Talking to another person fluently in two languages just felt—right. It had been so long since he’d visited the US and actually been able to flex it in conversation. Nobody was familiar there; his parents had a new cleaner in the house every few months so it’s not like a friendship could strike up anywhere in particular…

The coffee was surprisingly tasty, yet again. Both the reintroduction of caffeine and the bittersweet roast kicked his senses awake, and something semi-important seemed to resurface in his mind. Glancing around for a clock, he went to dig in a pocket for his phone.

“What’s up?”

Himuro didn’t look concerned so much as gently troubled by his customer’s jerky motions; Kagami read the time flash 19:50 on the screen and dragged a hand through his hair.

“Wondering what time I should get going…”

“…So soon?”

Such a pandering tone had Kagami pause nervously before he could bring himself to look up at Himuro’s face.

He may have been smiling, but nothing in the shape of his mouth cancelled out the ever-so-slight sadness that his eyes held.

Eyes?

Kagami could see a muted glint of grey through that fringe.

“…Not…” He began, with difficulty. The single word moved Himuro to soften his expression and adjust his bow-tie distractedly, as though regretting his question. “…Not right now. Forty minutes still, just about.”

“That’s good to hear. Let me pour you a drink, then?” Himuro’s breathy tone of relief made Kagami stare into the last ounces of dusky-cream coffee as though they could give him answers as to why his heart was pounding and his mouth was still dry after so many sips. “Oh, though, no drinking on the job, I’m guessing…?”

“I’ll… take another coffee, if that’s okay.”

“It might not turn out like Kaede’s.”

“That’s fine.”

Sober him up for the journey, hopefully. Those hard grey eyes suddenly wouldn’t allow him to meet their gaze, as much as he wanted to – as much as Himuro may have wanted to, lingering as though waiting for more of an answer. The mirror at the top of the bar was slightly tilted, or Kagami would have snatched a better glance at Himuro’s back once he turned to the coffee-pot. Drawing back to a slightly more upright position on the stool, he looked up to observe the decorations and setup of the bar, only to see the two workers at the other end of the seating goggling at him. He offered a small nod.

“Half?” The closest one blurted out, red in the face and glass empty. Kagami took a breath mentally and shrugged.

“Exchange.” That seemed to be enough for the men, who looked satisfied and returned to cradling their beer-glasses and loudly talking about getting a refill.

The back of the bar was made of the same dark hardwood that the rest of the bar was furnished in, save for the strip of mirror. It was flanked with upside-down spirit bottles on one side over a further army of bottles on the counter, with the other side dedicated to a shelf of tea leaves. Kagami could see Himuro working at a hot water dispenser and hot plate, where a coffee water-kettle gently burbled and steamed. The customer-facing bar counter was cleaved in half by a strong beam with draft beer handles hiding on either side. Really, it was the most busily-stocked part of the whole café; no other storage area held anything for the café’s functions, at least that could be seen. A cute umbrella pot and coat-rack sat by the door, and a shelf in the corner was minimalistically decorated with fresh flowers in a vase and the same style of doily that adorned the daytime service. To an extent it felt a little like a very tidy living-room.

The scent of coffee crept into Kagami’s sphere of senses again, and he spotted Himuro approaching with the fresh coffee-pot. He paused to reach for crockery underneath the bar; Kagami held out his drained coffee-cup for filling.

Himuro’s eyes shot through surprised, patronised, and finally to patient. “This isn’t a diner. We can spare a fresh cup.”

“I’m already taking up space and drinking all your coffee! Let me save on washing up!”

Frame loosening, Himuro’s arm lowered to gently swill the coffee in its pot. “Don’t act like you’re a bother to us here. C’mon.”

Despite the ambiguity in Himuro’s tone Kagami acted on the small gesture of the coffee-pot with a burst of courage and stuck out his empty cup. “Fill ‘er up!”

Himuro obliged wordlessly. The few seconds of melodic coffee-dripping could have been hours of silence between Kagami’s focus on not tilting the cup, and Himuro’s care in pouring. His vision practically tunnelled on the cup until it was full, but he _did_ notice the bartender’s mouth curl into a smile as he tidied the pot away, and spin around with the curiosity bubbling over in his expression. It didn’t find a form in words, though, leaving Himuro stood in place watching Kagami attempt to decide between immediately drinking the hot coffee and putting it down. In the end he settled for a small slurp. Better make it last til it was time to go. After all, the surface still had steam wafting from it.

“Your café has such a… good atmosphere to it.” He found himself admitting quietly, eyes on the saucer. In his peripheral vision Himuro swayed a little.

“Good how?”

“Good… as in comfortable.”

“You’re just saying that.” Accusing words but Himuro’s voice held some snark.

“No, well—“ Kagami jerked his head up as though to prove his innocence. “I feel welcomed. You guys chatted to me last time too.”

Himuro smiled, a genuine trace of humour in his eye. “It’s normal to have friendly staff in a café.” The comment made Kagami redden again, this time in a strange mix of embarrassment at himself and at Himuro’s snappy comebacks.

“Okay, well, maybe you guys make me feel _particularly_ comfortable.”

“Whoa there.”

Pretty sure he was turning into a tomato, because the despairing pinch of his eyebrows made Himuro finally break into a laugh. Kagami couldn’t stand the awkwardness much longer, using it as fuel to huff and lean back. “Not like that--!”

“Don’t worry, I think I know what you mean… I _think_. Ohhh dear.” Himuro hid his grin with the back of his hand, gazing down the other end of the bar. “It’s funny to hear that, I guess. I think it’s only natural to talk to our customers casually in this kind of establishment. Somehow—“ he seemed to mull something over, gradually lowering his hand. “I find it hard to believe you don’t get _welcomed_ in your line of work. Being a public service.”

“I don’t know… Like, there’s hospitality, and there’s…” Kagami didn’t know how to expand on it himself either. It wasn’t like he’d ever received customer service training; the ‘public-facing’ module at work had been more about avoiding conflict and communicating instructions than it was about building up rapport. Himuro seemed to want to make suggestions at the sight of Kagami knitting his brows in deep thought, but respectfully refrained. Guess that was part of his job, too, Kagami thought; God forbid he interrupt a rambling customer.

“Well, I guess I just don’t see the same civilians more than once. Otherwise we’d have a real arsonist problem on our hands.”

Himuro chuckled again. “You’ve got a point there. At least I know when people come in, they _want_ to sit and have a drink, so I’m going to be nice in return.”

“Didn’t think I’d get a chance to sit in tonight, honestly…”

In the pause of Kagami taking a long sip, Himuro watched him thoughtfully as though preparing to comment. But he never did, instead reaching for his cleaning-cloth. The taste of the coffee filled Kagami with warmth – however the bartender had made it gave it a toasty flavour and less of the punch that Kaede’s brewing held.

For as much as he felt constantly scrutinised when Himuro was speaking – or not speaking, as the case may be – there was a certain mutual curiosity, Kagami felt. More than making small talk, Himuro kept his replies neat and fresh, never shying away from a blunder where he spotted it. What a change it made from the vagueness of conversation with strangers. Was it something to do with American tendencies, he wondered, or just how the guy functioned?

“What had you coming back to Japan after L.A…?” The cup sent waves of heat through Kagami’s palms, taking the edge off his nerves as he spoke. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Himuro glanced at him out of the corner of his eye from where he was cleaning the hanging glasses. “I don’t mind, but. Why don’t you tell me about yourself first?”

“Oh,” Kagami’s voice was small, shaky. From the way Himuro continued with his work so casually he had no idea if he had offended him deeply with his prying. He would guess… no? So he got a little more comfortable, rested his forearms on the counter and clung to his coffee. It had been ages since somebody asked and was likely to _understand_. “Mostly a family thing. Dad finally had the business in good hands in the US, I’d just finished middle school, Mom wanted to make sure I didn’t miss entrance exams. They wound up leaving again pretty quickly, though.”

“Business?”

“Yeah, after all that it was pretty annoying. But couldn’t really complain.”

Himuro cocked his head. “You went back with them?”

“Huh? No, I stayed here.”

“In high school?”

“Yeah…”

“You stayed in Japan _alone_ through high school?”

Kagami shifted, looking up at Himuro’s now alert face. “Well… yeah. I was alone plenty in L.A. too, international school and that.” The answer didn’t seem to please Himuro at all, who frowned lightly before shrugging.

“I wasn’t expecting that. You just seem…”

He trailed off and didn’t seem in a hurry to quell Kagami’s curiosity. Setting a glass back in its place above the bar he gave Kagami his full attention, arms crossed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh! There’s not much more to it, to be honest!”

“Really? Sounds like there is…”

“Promise. I mean, my high school was in Tokyo and everything. I feel like I stayed pretty rooted since then.”

“Hmm. Mine was in Akita.”

Kagami’s jaw dropped, to Himuro’s amusement. “So far north!”

“Well, we both had to fly the Pacific to get here eventually, didn’t we? What’s a few hundred miles extra?”

“This bar’s got a powerful draw to it, huh?”

Himuro raised his eyebrows and leant back on the counter again. Kagami was starting to enjoy the relaxed flow that the conversation adopted once he did that. “That was a while ago, me moving down. High school was a weird time for me… Then pretty much all my friends moved after graduation. You know, for university.”

Kagami tried to hold back a self-deprecating eyeroll with all his might, and failed. “Yee-ahhh, university.” They shared a sigh.

“Before that I sort of, decided to move back with my dad there. L.A. wasn’t gonna work out.”

The cogs turning in Kagami’s mind were nearly audible in the short pause that followed, before he pointed at Himuro slowly, squinting beneath a deep frown. “… So _you_ were alone in L.A.?”

His bartender didn’t know where to put himself under Kagami’s investigative gaze, hands cupping his elbows. Eventually he suggested, "I was with my parents, just no school-type friends." Kagami shook his head, pulse slowing again.

“Geez, had me worried you did all grade school and junior high on your own out there in the States! Livin' with your old man isn't uncool or anything, you can just say it!”

“ _Alright, alright._ ”

Far from shying away from his new lapse into English, Kagami could feel himself breaking into a smile again. “ _We’re even now, aren’t we?_ ”

Himuro nursed a mysterious look. He didn’t look comfortable enough to pick up his second language for much longer. “That depends on how much you want to tell me, I guess.”

…Such a response left Kagami lost for words. Mentally, anyway, he was scrambling for comprehension, throwing aside idioms and pieces of words in English and Japanese after such a fast switch between the two. Himuro really was unusual in how keenly he listened, but how coldly he replied. Besides that, he was probing now…

It felt like a chance.

But for what? His heart had snuck up into his throat again, and Kagami choked out some words, any words, no matter how dumb, just to properly show that he had registered what Himuro was welcoming.

“A… a good fireman never reveals his secrets.”

Himuro cracked a smile. “What? Are you a magician now?”

“No, just… I don’t know how to condense things well in forty minutes.” …That said—he checked his watch. “…Ten minutes.”

While the two further down the bar started to leave and Hiro slowly swept at the entrance of the café with a wooden broom, the atmosphere started to lose momentum, as though a single remark on the passing of time had applied brakes. No – he wanted to stay a little longer than that, stay until closing time. He could feel that there was more to talk about with the staff, with Himuro. Sure, they’d chatted in the tiniest bit of English, but it was a scratch on the surface. High school wasn’t the end of L.A.’s influence, was it? And Himuro couldn’t just leave it at “then I came to Akita” – how unsatisfying! And stupidly mysterious! Why was everything about him so mysterious from his cutting remarks to that drastic haircut? Was that even allowed in the dress code? Was the bar simply that laid-back?

…But he couldn’t communicate all of that in one go, when he could barely express that he wanted to stay. Kagami’s little finger tapped at the edge of his coffee cup restlessly.

“You’re heading back to your station tonight?” Himuro’s entire posture changed while Kagami wasn’t paying attention; now the man leant forward, hands on the bar mere inches from the cup and saucer. Kagami swallowed and nodded.

“For the last chunk of my shift, yeah. In case anything crops up.”

“Yikes. I feel like it’s our duty to caffeinate you.”

“Nah, you’re on it already.” Kagami lifted his cup like a toast. Himuro quirked his eyebrows.

“Suppose so.” A brief glance away didn’t last, and he looked back at Kagami a little more boldly, as though he’d used the pause to steel himself. “So is Setagaya’s fire service dropping in regularly for checks from here on out?”

“Uh.” Kagami’s stomach dropped. “Not that I know of. You—well, all of the Way, is due a safety check in three months I think… And Hide said an equipment check in six. Then training top-up at the same time. Kind of all spaced out, this stuff.” He made a pained expression in response to Himuro’s thoughtful look. “We’ll probably call the office in advance for those.”

“Good plan. The others might have liked some notice.”

“…Oh, shit.” Kagami realised he’d totally neglected to call in the first place. Damn it—that was why the volunteer station was closed! They had no idea he was coming! Himuro caught on to his customer’s despair and offered a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, I won’t tell.” He laughed gently.

“Uurrgh. Thanks, man.”

“You _are_ welcome to come in any time, you know. Don’t wait up for formalities to visit.”

Kagami paused, swallowed. His mouth was dry again, and this time he knew for certain it wasn’t the coffee dehydrating him. “Sure?”

Himuro grinned, but it looked a little forced. “What, you think we won’t treat you if you’re not in uniform? Get real, Taiga.”

“Well-“ Kagami began, and nearly spat his mouthful of coffee. First name! _First name_ , his mind echoed back at him. He stared at Himuro, waving a hand as he tried his hardest to gulp down the drink; he only shrugged.

“’Tatsuya’ is fine.”

“Right.”

“Since you’re only a customer off-duty.”

“R…right.”

Throwback to the States, he thought. First meetings would have been on first-name basis by default. It probably wasn’t such a big deal, right?

So why was his heart pounding? Or was the headache kicking off this racing pulse?

Kagami made sure to completely finish his coffee.


	5. Chapter 5

Feet on the dashboard wasn’t really his style, but damn, it had been a long day and his legs could use the stretch. The driver seat was pushed as far back as it could go, and Kagami tucked himself at an angle, relaxed back in the tilt of the seat as though ready for his dental checkup. In the passenger space, Hide provided most of the noise over the car’s radio with the rustling of his paper bag.

It had been calm at the station for a few hours, but this one call-out coincided beautifully with Morishita’s radio fuzzing and blipping out (“All that yanking he does to the cord,” Nakayoshi had grumbled earlier, readying himself to drive the backup van), and so backup had been sent to offer communications; the two in Kagami’s car were the second backup in case of further equipment shutdown. Both of them had phones and radios at the ready, resting on the dashboard.

Eyes on a passing police car, slow-paced and sirens dead at this late hour, Kagami absent-mindedly took a slow bite of his unwrapped burger. Hide stared at him sideways.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Mmph?”

In a stunned silence, Hide scrutinised his colleague, sprawled out in a family car with no more cover than a t-shirt and trousers in the dark of 11pm in May. He even had the audacity to leave his stomach bared, catching sesame seeds that tumbled from his dinner.

“This is a joke, isn’t it? How aren’t you even—like—a bit goosebumpy?”

Kagami frowned and shrugged, looking much like an angry cat interrupted as he swallowed down his bite of burger. “I’unno? Just ask if you want the heating on, man.”

“Geez, I’m just saying…” But Hide huddled down in his jacket further, eyes flickering sulkily between Kagami and the car display. “It’s eight degrees out there.”

Kagami watched his lingering gaze, then bundled up the remnant of his burger in its paper and leant forward to turn the heating on. And still, Hide protested. “Noooo, what’re you doing? Like I figured it was an energy-saving thing, like maybe you’re secretly cheap and you didn’t want it on if the engine wasn’t—“

“Well I’m obviously not feeling it, am I? C’mon, Hide, I’m not sending you back to your wife as a snowman.”

The warm air started blowing out at the vent in front of Hide, the blast ruffling his hair. He looked like a sullen baby chick in its breeze. “Don’t make me sound like the one complaining.”

Kagami whined in the growl of his voice. “But you are…” But Hide didn’t seem fazed, even burrowing deeper into his jacket. His hard stare was only a glint in the shadow in the hood. He didn’t blink for a while, even when the heating seemed to hit his eyes. Kagami felt uncomfortable.

Eventually Hide spoke, to Kagami’s relief. “What’s up with you lately?” he mumbled, sprouting out of his jacket again and revealing his stare to be one of concern and confusion.

“Huh?”

“Can’t tell if you’re playing dumb, geez.” Hide sniffed. “You down about something?”

Kagami’s eyes flicked to the car display, to the silent radios and their static LEDs. “I… don’t think so? Do I look down?”

“Huh. I don’t know, just a feeling I get. Like there’s stuff you forget to do.” Hide pointed towards the Maji Burger takeaway bag crumpled on the dashboard. “I mean, since when do you not finish your food?”

“I just didn’t feel like it. It went cold.” The words felt untrue and bad in his mouth as he said them, like something was tugging inside him that that wasn’t correct, despite not knowing what _was_.

“It’s two and a half burgers that you didn’t touch, Fire-god. Only leftovers I’ve ever seen from your five-burger takeout is some pickles and a fry-bit.” Hide goggled. “I mean, you ate twenty-seven once before our very eyes on the first work drinks!”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. Awkwardly worried, Hide ruffled up his own hair and sat forward in the passenger seat. “Hey, I’m not your mom telling you to eat more, do what you want, I just thought it was kinda… out of the ordinary, for you.”

Kagami wrinkled his nose. He was nearly afraid to ask how long it had been since Hide noticed; instantly his gut ramped up the fear with the thought that his appetite had shrunk ages ago, it felt like. No more midnight snacking… no more ‘King’ deals at Maji Burger. The staff had stopped wishing him a “goodnight to the team” as though he was buying for the office in his one-man purchase.

But, honestly, the takeout was cold in its oil-stained bag, and it didn’t appeal to him. It never specifically used to – he had never actually minded or paid attention to that kind of detail.

Before he could muster some form of response, his colleague piped up again, this time with a hearty change in stance and slinging his elbow to lean charismatically against the dashboard. “Maybe you need a change in scenery! Go out and do something different!”

“Uh, how? We’re stuck here til further notice.”

Hide rolled his eyes. “Well, not now, dingus, I mean a general change… Lifestyle… something… you know!” He shrugged. Kagami stared in confusion at what felt like a disjointed rant. Hide strained. “A hobby! Sports! Socialising!”

“Ohhh.”

“Yeah!”

“I already kinda do all of that.”

“No!” Hide jabbed a finger at him, making Kagami flinch, then caught himself and pointed again, more gently, “Not just the same stuff! I mean, you seem like you have a routine… Oh, I got it! Don’t make that face!”

Kagami hadn’t realised he was making a sour face at whatever Hide had ready to suggest; he could feel some dumb jokes about doing even more overtime or coming to babysit his kid bubbling up.

“Come out for drinks tonight!”

“Oh…?!” …Okay, that was definitely not what he was expecting. “ _You_ , out drinking?”

“Uh, yeah!”

“Don’t get me wrong, Hide, but… you’re always on earlies so you can see your family…”

“And tonight I’m on a…?” Hide trailed off, grinning.

“…Late… Ohhh.”

“See? Little baby’s already in bed at this time. My wife knows I’m coming home at sunrise anyway. It’s only once a month.”

“Well, if it’s just our squad…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re saying I’m always on earlies but what excuse do you have? C’mon, it’s been ages since the birthday drinks, you’re coming out with me tonight!”

Kagami breathed softly, the puff making a cloud in the air of the car. Well, if he didn’t have room for a couple more burgers, he was sure he wouldn’t fit in enough beers to drunk drive home. In a sense, Hide was right – he did have a routine. But more and more often, it felt like the routine was born of a lack of other things to do: a lack that he was only just beginning to realise. Cooking was a hobby, gym before work was sports, colleagues and texting Kuroko were the extent of his social exercises.

He doubted Hide’s routine differed much, but… he thought about how their schedules no longer synced up, yet he’d noticed changes in his behaviour. Something had definitely set his body’s hunger-clock off-kilter, so another change might bump it back to normal… that was the logic, right?

He tried his best to relax, and smiled.

“Alright. If we don’t end up in the fray on shift, then after work.”

\--

By the time they technically ought to have clocked out, Hide was snoring on the dashboard. Kagami had had to poke him awake before driving away, and followed the most lucid directions to the bar. He’d done a quick double-take when they zoomed past the usual bar for the fire department’s birthday drinks, a pokey little place that welcomed their frequent custom; Hide was certainly awake, however, and kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead.

They were getting deeper and deeper into Shinjuku, the traffic thickening even as the night drew on. If anything there were more delivery vans, more lorries making it harder for Kagami’s vehicle to squeeze past. After ten minutes blocked up behind a food truck Hide nudged his coworker’s shoulder and gestured outside to the busy pavement. “Let’s just hop out here.”

“Really?”

“It’s just there. It’ll be fine, nothing’s gonna happen to your car!”

Kagami paused to consider this, then shook his head and just—trusted him. Although—

“Uh, you sure? It’s Shinjuku…”

“Yeah, well…”

That wasn’t much of an answer. They parked, and it took a few strides towards an open-terraced traditional bar before Kagami actually felt bothered enough to probe.

“You sure?”

Hide finally faced him with a slightly sheepish grin, and smacked his shoulder in a sudden push towards the full, bustling, extremely noisy – and navy-dotted seating area spilling onto the pavement.

Kagami felt himself stick out and blend in at the same time in amongst a sea of emergency services. All four long benches in the open bar seated nothing but police officers, jacketless, sleeves rolled up, collars unbuttoned, stuck shoulder-to-shoulder in their number and each and every one clasping a can or glass. Hide laughed, the sound a drop in the ocean of tipsy chatter and orders yelled to the barman.

“Someone’ll be on the case, man.” He said loudly enough that the closest officer on the edge of the bench turned and, after a split-second assessment, burst into a grin and loosely saluted. “If it isn’t the firemen!” He yelled, grabbing the attention of the gaggle one row back, eight more blue-uniformed men perking up and cheering, raising their glasses. Kagami recognised them as the Shinjuku district’s fire department.

“You— _know_ all of these guys?” His uncertain tone didn’t match his stature, finally finding conformity amongst the veritable crowd of built men and women clustered at the benches, following Hide as he picked his way between the rows. Hide turned, the meekness melting away with every hand-clasp and clap on the back he received as they passed through squads of Tokyo’s wards.

“Acquaintances? They do this get-together on the 20th every month, y’know, just ‘whoever can make it, please come and drink a few rounds’, type thing. Emergency services, we’re so around the clock that not everybody makes it every time… Some guys I only see twice a year, others five times, haha.” Kagami didn’t look convinced, so Hide drew him closer and pushed him butt-first onto a seat. “Put it this way – it’s the most casual drinks ever, ‘cause we’ve all clocked out!”

“We’re always all on the clock in our hearts!” bellowed a red-faced mountain of a man opposite Kagami as Hide attempted to slot himself next to him. Sweating, Kagami realised the guy’s badge was that of a police chief – but Hide only snorted in laughter.

“Everyone should be aware of fire safety anyway! It’s you guys that need to take a break!” he pouted, practically breaking his neck in turning to request beers from the waitress. The chief took a long swig of beer, squinting at Kagami.

“The law never sleeps, lads. Keep that in your hearts.” His tone was gravelly, whether from inebriation or seriousness Kagami couldn’t tell, at least not until the chief’s neighbour, young and dark-haired, elbowed his stocky arm.

“Oi, old man, you gonna go to sleep any time soon? Fire department don’t need to hear your ancient cop fantasies.”

The chief only burbled in response, burying his face in his drink at the same moment that an ice-cold beer was slotted into Kagami’s hand at the table. With the jolt of the glass on his palm he suddenly felt the full intensity of the situation hit him; all the sound around, hundreds of conversations going on in the openness of the bar with nothing but its short fabric curtains to mark off its borders on the busy street; the jostling of elbows and shoulders and backs, waiters and waitresses skirting through as though the heaving rows were merely lapping waves and not representatives of the law forming meaty, rowdy walls of customers. Tokyo’s core lay here. Emergency services gathered, letting off all the steam bottled up during the day.

He felt Hide slap his back as he half-introduced him to another huddle of police officers, half-bragged about their achievements and how many burgers he could put away on a good day, and took his first frothy sip of beer. It was good.

Until the alcohol and the ambience eased him into a sense of comfort, Kagami thought, maybe he’d just listen and try to take Hide’s lead. Every month but not always the same crowd – it made sense. He could just about cobble together that kind of atmosphere from the bar, the way that people kept standing to dart their way over to other tables or interrupt throngs to point out somebody they hadn’t seen ‘in _months_!!’… And yikes, there was a lot of hugging and thumbs-ups going on too. Must’ve been the complete lack of hearing everybody seemed to share after what he assumed had been at least an hour of drunken conversation rising in volume. Good thing he’d told Kuroko he’d text him on the way home; he’d probably need some sobering up if he wanted to make it back in one piece. And it was only 1am…

Over the rim of his glass he took another look at the drinkers opposite himself and Hide; mostly police, with a few other firefighters perched on the ends of the benches. The police chief – from Shinjuku itself, he read from the badge—was slowly coming to lean on his younger colleague, eyes sliding shut.

Kagami couldn’t tell if it was because his gaze had zoned out into an unspecific point on the other man, but when he refocused he saw blue eyes – just as powerfully dark and deep as the dye that coloured every uniform in the bar – pinning him to his seat. They belonged to a lean man, cropped hair hiding none of his deeply tanned skin and thin eyebrows that lent themselves to his stark stare.

Maybe he was faced this way because, other than himself and Hide, the guy seemed to be the only other young person on this table? Or… he figuratively, and literally, didn’t want to let his boss down?

“You alright?” Kagami half-grinned into his beer glass, sympathetically shrugging towards Shinjuku’s almighty police chief weighing on the guy. Judging from the matching uniform, although with sleeves rolled halfway up his biceps, they belonged to the same police unit. The comment seemed to make his stare withdraw instantly into what looked like a sulk, with a furious glint in his eye, before eventually looking aside entirely. In a second it felt as though he’d blocked Kagami out of his field of vision, and any future attentions.

…So much for socialising. Somehow being rejected like that made a lick of anger rise within Kagami, a kneejerk reaction – he was only trying to sympathise! – that he tried to brush off just as quickly and bury in his beer.

_Try something new!_

Hide’s actual voice resonated next to him, albeit through the ringing in his ears of multiple other men shouting around the pair, as well as in his mind, and Kagami dredged up some courage. What was the point of agreeing to come out if he was going to get depressed over one stick in the mud? He straightened up only to huddle slightly further over the bench and tried again, voice louder to catch his barmate’s attention.

“You gonna have to lug him back to the station?” The guy opposite still seemed to be trying to ignore him, but in a sudden sway of the row of officers, the police chief was shoved upright and blinked in confusion. Both Kagami and his navy-haired neighbour held their breath for a moment, anticipating the boss’ next move – but he merely, slowly, began to slump on the officer on his other side, unfortunately one who didn’t have quite the muscle mass to sustain his weight. As they watched the poor soul crumple beneath the bulk of authority, there was a mutual sigh of relief.

“Our chief’s pretty similar. Never lets us drop him home, though. His wife always has to come pick him up.”

At last, his words appeared to have gotten through… or at least become audible, if the quirk of the guy’s slim eyebrow was anything to go by. Without looking at Kagami he let out a small breath and found his half-empty beer glass again amongst the forest of them on the bench. His voice was low, deep and tired when he spoke. “We’re definitely gonna have to ferry him back.”

“Bet that’s pretty close by. You guys are Shinjuku, right?”

“’s’right.”

Hardly struck gold with this conversation, Kagami thought with a twitch of his eyebrow. His neighbour still stared down the bench, taking a long sip of beer. As though in solidarity Kagami did the same, looking the opposite direction, only to hear him speak again.

“You?”

“Huh?” He burbled through the foam.

“What ward.”

Having his attention on him felt slightly unnerving, but only until Kagami noticed that he still wasn’t being visually acknowledged. That irked him.

“Setagaya, both me and Hide.”

The officer grunted in response and buried his face in his glass once more. _So much for that!_ Had he just been put in front of the most tactless officer in the whole force? Good going, Hide, hogging all the fun conversationalists for himself! Kagami slapped his hand on the tabletop in search of a coaster and set his beer down, leaning back in his seat to take a look around the bar. Maybe he could find somebody with actual common ground to talk to, another firefighter, or someone not from the Shinjuku force, if they were all like that.

But no sooner had he stuck his head out than someone at the end of the bench, feeling the gaze, stared back, and dropped their jaw. “No way!” He saw them mouth, inaudible from two metres away, but then the female officer stood and whipped out her smartphone.

“Not one but _two_! What is this?!” Her friends tugged at her shirt for her to sit down, yet it didn’t dissuade her snapping a photo of—of Kagami? Of the bench?

Before he could change his completely puzzled expression to something resembling ‘about to genuinely ask what she was doing’ Hide let out a laugh and elbowed Kagami in the ribs. “Didn’t know you were a celebrity! If Mai-chan’s taking a pic you gotta be secretly famous!”

Kagami practically sweated his bewilderment to the now-hushed end of the table. His new fan stared him down, mouth open and gawking.

Gawking at him _and_ his neighbour.

“Aomine, too…”

“Can it, officer.”

He glanced aside at the sound of his neighbour’s voice suddenly louder, stronger. He still wasn’t looking in Kagami’s direction yet his expression remained stony, cross even. Touchy guy! Kagami shook his head and tried to brush off the freaky change in mood. “Sorry, uh, what’s going on…?” he nudged Hide, who only gave the woman a great welcoming gesture to continue speaking. She seemed to be bursting for the opportunity.

“I saw you two compete in the Winter Cup all those years ago…! My older brother was assisting the judges, so we got to be in the audience… I can’t believe you’re even sat at the same table! It’s been so long!” she cried, although her passion was more from knowledge than it was pure fanaticism. In a ripple her colleagues fell about snorting at the table and Kagami felt both exposed in a spotlight and totally swept away in the sea of people. Hide, unhelpfully, was in giggles at Kagami’s stunned expression, and couldn’t lend himself to explain at all. He doubted that his co-worker could explain. Kagami himself felt like he was listening to another language. Glancing to—Aomine, his neighbour, he guessed—for assistance, he was met by a split-second glare on the man’s way to stare down Mai. The guys sat near her saw his look and jostled her, tugging at her jacket petulantly.

“What’s the deal? They’re not famous at all, Mai-chan, don’t lead us on like that!”

She guffawed and tapped through her phone for evidence. “You say that, but they were a _huge_ deal in the high school tournaments…! Wait, wait, I have a video.”

Those words seemed to trigger something in Aomine, because the man that Kagami had only really witnessed sitting statue-like and staring instantly stood --  not even a twitch to prelude the lightning-fast movement – as though ready to lunge towards Mai. But a co-worker grabbed his arm, laughing, lightly encouraging him back down to his seat, and Kagami saw the look in his widened eyes. Pure focus, sheer panic. Although his body was trapped his eyes still whirred through what felt like escape plans, while Mai was already settling back into her squad’s circle with her phone sideways, outstretched before her.

“Ah, it’s them…” One guy mumbled over her arm, while another huffed. “You can barely tell aside from the hair colour. Where even were you in the seating?!”

“You guys suck. Look, this is sports history!”

“Hardly! It’s just blurs!” “Your hands are so shaky, Mai-chan, no wonder you haven’t passed gun check-“

“Umm,” Kagami found himself reaching down the bench, a move that granted him a parting of the sea of officers, so quietly tucked-in had he been up until then. It was a bold move. “Can I take a look?”

Mai’s studious eyes searched his, and after a hesitant pause, she nodded. “Sure.” The phone left her hands and a colleague passed it along to him. “ _Sankyuu_.” The warm lighting of the bar reflected on the sauce-blotched smartphone screen, but the video certainly moved. Enough bustle around him – especially as Hide, dragging his mates over, gathered a group of about ten all clustered behind Kagami’s shoulders – drowned out any sound that accompanied the visuals, but that was fine.

It felt like he was discovering something new. Like he’d just reached out and grabbed an opportunity with both hands; so he hushed, watching the flicker of movement on the screen. The orange basketball was a mere flicker between all the players on the tan-wood court, one team white and the other in black – for some time its movement was his only guidance for the rhythm of the game.

Until the video feed jolted, its owner suddenly standing, and zoomed in to the court more fully.

Red-brown hair; then the same navy that dulled under the glow of Shinjuku’s night-lighting. The occasional blip of that paler team member whose presence screamed in his mind ‘ _Kuroko! Pass!’_ at the same instant that the ball would burst out of nowhere, force into Kagami’s own hands and fly through the hoop in one.

The video may have been a quiet rustle in the booming chatter of the bar, but Kagami heard that buzzer blare in his head as clearly as though he was there.

No way could he mistake his own body leaping around on the court, but it didn’t look… no, didn’t _feel_ right. The movements, the reactions – simply from watching the feed his limbs felt loose and achey, as though puppeted by the movements of the boy on the screen.

And that was just himself! Once the time started again the smaller Kagami on-screen kept being hounded by—well, he assumed, Aomine, although slimmer and more square-shaped in the unflattering basketball uniform flapping around his legs – across the court, no matter what he did. It barely looked like sports, rather more like he was getting chased, with the barest swing of a hand to slap the ball out from Seirin’s hands, no matter who in the five of them was in possession.

Seirin. Yeah. That was the team name emblazoned on his jersey. He found himself mentally shaking his head, physically frowning. He didn’t forget his _high school_ ’s name, did he?

“Cut it out already, no-one likes seeing their playback.” The tired growl was the only warning he vaguely sensed before a tanned hand grabbed the phone out of Kagami’s resting hold, looking up to see Aomine standing and pocketing the phone – without any resistance on his part. Kagami realised his own legs were too rigid, weighed down by his stomach like a rock in his abdomen.

“Hey, I wasn’t done-“ he began, cut off by Mai yelping like a wounded animal.

“My phone…!”

“You’ll get it back. Police confiscation.”

Kagami made another attempt, this time toning down his voice. “Give her it back, man.”

Aomine’s eyes finally gave him a look; a fleeting, cutting one, that didn’t last in the new whining of Mai’s colleagues like a tone-deaf chorus. “Killjoy! Fun-sucker Aomine!” He grimaced.

“Shaddap. The only one a player ever takes playbacks from is his coach. Look, you embarrassed the new guy.”

“Mai-chan said it was history!”

“Yeah, and so is ‘Lady-legs Shirota’ in training camp, but _I’m_ not busting out the story every time we drink.”

Shirota, the whiniest officer in Mai’s corner, paled and sat agape; within a second his whole entourage erupted in a roar of laughter and amazement. He went from white as a sheet to burning red under the attention, staring at Aomine with dewy, heartbroken eyes.

“Aomine, how could you--!”

“Heh, whoopsie.” Aomine grinned smugly, finally standing unhindered. Both Kagami and officer Mai jolted, the first out of some gut instinct, the latter out of fear for her phone, but he cut off her protests with a stride and a pat on her head. “Going for a smoke.” He ducked out of the bar through the various whining and cheers of his colleagues as easily as a cat avoiding children’s hands. Mai followed him out complaining nonetheless and Kagami watched her go; it was only when Hide bumped into him, a knock-on jostle from a friend, that he was shaken to his senses. His legs still felt made of lead but the difference was that now they contained an impulse to _move_ , electric sparks pricking at his nerves in a way that felt familiar – or, maybe, recognisable, after that video.

It shocked him, how fluid their movements were on the court back then, but how little of that heart-pounding territorial battle he could recall, despite the visceral echoes of the aches and pains of such matches trying to revive themselves in his body. His pulse was racing again, and his body felt light, like he’d pounded the treadmill for miles and he was floating on the adrenaline.

As he reached for his beer in the haze of confusion, he realised, with a sip of nothing but bubbles—

His stomach felt light too.

Leaping out of his seat and slipping through the bustle in one bolt, he hardly heard Hide call “Whoa – bathroom?!” after him, lost in all the sound he was escaping—putting behind him— in the urgency he felt. The lightness was driving him mad and lifting his feet as he darted out of the bar, searching for the officer. A plume of smoke? A lone man? Couples brushed past him and he stepped back onto the pavement under the bar’s outer lamps. He could spot his car further down the now-clear road, but for all of his discomfort wedged amongst all those strangers on the benches, Kagami couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. Not when he finally— finally, the heaviness he’d been dragging around with him for weeks had been lifted.

No, he had to find Aomine, had to tell him. Had to ask him -- why did he feel this weird pull towards him? What did it mean when Mai said it was ‘history’? Had they shared more than one match?

_Kuroko was in the clip too_! He’d know!

In the briefest sidetrack Kagami grabbed his phone to find Kuroko’s number and retrieve the last text – when a hand settled on his arm, a careful touch that made him glance up at its owner.

Mai stood near him, smiling tiredly. The bar’s dim light cast shadows across her face that darkened the tipsy blush in her cheeks.

“Um—“ Kagami began, already anxiously apologetic for cutting her off with his phone call, but she simply shook her head.

“Sorry about all of that. I shouldn’t have singled you out like that.” She raised her hand—her phone back in her palm. “I’ll, um, delete that video if it makes you feel any better.”

“No—no, don’t do that. Don’t worry.” He shook his head despite her earnest look. Such an offer sobered him up; the thought of what it meant to her, how she had burst out so suddenly in the bar, had him slip his own phone back into his pocket. She wasn’t to know how anyone would react. “Really. Thanks.”

Mai smiled, bowed a little ashamedly, and disappeared behind the bar’s curtains again.

He wasn’t sure that she understood exactly what he thanked her for, but he figured… he had another reason to add to the list. Because a look in the direction from which she had come gave him his target. Behind the bar’s wooden structure stood Aomine, a hand in his pocket, head tilted downwards and scrolling on his phone. No tobacco in sight.

Of course, he’d just tried to avoid the fuss in the bar, hadn’t he? Kagami didn’t hesitate in closing the gap between them in a few strides, announcing himself, since the guy didn’t seem to appreciate subtle greetings or even polite chatter.

“’Smoke’, huh. Self-respecting sportsman or detective in action, ‘course you wouldn’t be doing that.” Aomine’s head jerked up at the sound, a dark expression unfolding on his face as though furious with himself for reacting so instinctively. He swung around to face the firefighter, both hands slung low in his trouser pockets.

“Don’t start with that ‘self-respecting’ shit.” He said, standing still even as Kagami came close. Kagami could see the glimmer of blue in those dark eyes again.

“You ran away back there. Embarassed or something?” Kagami felt like he was hearing somebody else speak with his voice; except that the aggression lined up perfectly. Why did he feel like Aomine _owed_ him something?

The jab seemed to work, because Aomine turned his hard look into a glare. “Like you had any idea what was going on.”

That was a blow. Kagami faltered. “I—“ And he swore he saw Aomine almost back off, a small step sideways, so he dredged up that courage—“I wasn’t exactly expecting that. Neither were you, apparently!”

“Hey, you’re right there.” Aomine laughed hollowly. “You think that’s what happens every drinks night? We all bust out our high school memories and have a good old laugh? Some sports nut thinks it’s funny to jump you?”

“Like I’d know!”

Bad answer. “I don’t need you trying to get all tough love with me, fireman. Go back to your ward before your stupid friend buys you more pints than you can drive on.” Aomine growled, eyes cold.

“I’m staying!”

Kagami hadn’t realised how much his cracking voice sounded like a plea. Nor did the officer expect that sort of reply. They both fell silent, staring one another down against a roar of laughter on the other side of the bar’s wall. Aomine was the first one to break the tension with a scuff of his shoe on the pavement.

“You don’t wanna get into this.”

“I don’t—“ Kagami began. _Understand_? That was accurate. It was as if Aomine was having a totally different conversation with him than the one that he was trying to force right now. “I just want to know a couple of things. Since we’ve met before…”

“On the court, that’s not _meeting--_ ”

“Well, it’s more, isn’t it? Being my opponent?” Kagami interrupted with a step closer, a move that shot a flare of uncertainty through Aomine’s stony look. “I don’t remember it well, but damn, seeing that video… It’s weird, but I know for sure that I played you. I know we kept going head-to-head with each other. My coach designed my play for it. You’re Aomine from… Touou High.”

“Oi—“

“I’d forgotten about it all, but now I look at you, yeah.” He stepped closer still, a bolt of confidence throwing the ends of his mouth into a wild smirk. Earlier’s ghost of adrenaline was coming back with some familiar sensation of exhaustion, of not being able to relax for even a second, the squeak of sneakers on the court an echo in his mind. “A close match like that! Me and Kuroko teamed up, and you…!”

“ _Shut up_!” Aomine snarled and squared up. The bar’s chatter fell silent for a second as the two stared at one another, Kagami’s eyes vivid with stoppered excitement and shock, Aomine fiercely defensive. He looked ready to punch him; the threat of Aomine swinging a fist wasn’t as intimidating as the fact that he looked like he had been pushed to that breaking point. Even his voice, completely unlike all the beastlike aggression radiating off of him, tumbled out of him in stops and starts.

“I don’t—I don’t need to know this! I don’t care! You can take all your twee high school fun and games and memories and _teammates_ and—“

“Play me again!”

And all of Kagami’s strength went into that shout; he couldn’t help it, and it was like a pin bursting a balloon; Aomine jerked as though struck.

“…Fucking joke.” He mumbled and turned away to leave but Kagami wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ let that happen, flinging a hand out to grab his shoulder.

“Aomine, play me again! I know it’s out of the blue, I just—“

“Don’t touch me!” He smacked Kagami’s hand away and whirled around to face him for a final time. “What’s wrong with you?! Still too hot-headed for your own good. Idiot.”

“You remember playing me too, right? It’s been—it’s been years since I played! I wanna play someone on my level again! I want to…”

Kagami realised in a gut-wrenching moment that Aomine was holding his breath, and listening.

“I want to remember what that kind of fun feels like.”

The words themselves sounded—straight up bizarre cobbled together like that, and in the back of his mind he could imagine Kuroko’s monotone reply, _Kagami-kun is embarrassing, but refreshingly honest_. And Himu—Tatsuya would definitely say something more cutting than that.

He found himself reddening both at the thought of that, and at the realisation he’d thought of him specifically. It distracted him from embarrassment in that moment. When he refocused on Aomine, he was… still silent.

“There you go again.” The officer mumbled, and turned again. Panic spiked through Kagami.

“Wait--!”

“2-Chome’s court. Whenever you sober up.”

The place name didn’t make sense for a moment, and Kagami stared helplessly as Aomine headed away from the bar. “But what—“

“Don’t make me change my mind, idiot. 4am and I’m gone.”

He was already winding his way between late-night shoppers down the road, slipping past Kagami’s parked car, and—in a second of distraction, he was gone. Kagami stood in place in a cold sweat.

He withdrew his phone from his pocket only very slightly, enough to peek at the screen. An unread text from Kuroko, and the time read 2:15.

It was a bad decision but… he’d pushed it himself without fully knowing why, hadn’t he.

His stomach was still light, and the beer didn’t drag his legs down.

… _Better not forfeit this game._

 

\--

Under the light of a bright moon Kagami had taken far longer than intended to show up to that part of Shinjuku. He wasn’t familiar with the area at night – or familiar at all, really. Best decision in his eyes was to leave the car exactly where it was so that Hide wouldn’t think he got jilted, and for that all-important journey home.

Catching his own breath in huffs in the cold air, he hoped he was fine to drive. All his senses were clear despite the pint… or… maybe he was just lucid. But he didn’t feel fuzzy or slow in any way; in fact, they were in overdrive from nerves, singling out a twinkling star or a meow down an alley as he hurried on his way to the court. Google Maps said another three minutes, but his long legs could get him there in two, right…? Maybe even one?

But again, the way was unfamiliar. Unlike Setagaya’s wide roads and friendly pavements Shinjuku was cramped and mazelike in its multitude of inhabited streets and sudden apartment blocks that felt wedged into the ward’s skyline. Alleys merged with parallel roads on the tracking app with walkways that felt narrower the further he walked, giving him that uncomfortable feeling of lumbering like an ungraceful giant amongst small-built surroundings. Tokyo was meant to be designed for a growing population, right? Was it strange that this madly busy area penned him in so much?

Then the road ended, and Kagami found himself staring ahead at an open space – at last – between another apartment block and a row of houses. The square was fenced off by chain-link. Under a streetlamp’s glow, a tall figure stood.

Kagami took a breath and headed straight for the court’s unlocked door. Aomine didn’t stir at the creak of its rusted hinges, looking up only as his opponent approached. As he turned Kagami noticed he held a basketball—well, ‘held’, more loosely wedged between his hip and his arm as though it was part of his body. Still the streetlamps didn’t offer enough lighting to cancel out the vast abyss of the clear sky above them nor to show him what kind of expression Aomine wore as they faced each other – the beam simply didn’t reach that far.

“Yo.” That was all the greeting Aomine gave. Not that Kagami had much to say either, settling on a gulp and a nod. The door quietly clanged shut several metres away.

In an absence of anything to say, Kagami looked up at the posts and hoops that adorned the court with its markings scuffed over time, the tarmac patchy and worn in places. The fabric netting was completely tattered on one hoop, and replaced by thin chain-netting on the far one.

“So this is your usual spot?” he asked.

“Might be.” Came the deadpan reply.

…Big conversationalist. Kagami was rapidly getting tired of this same rise and fall of banal talk followed by his own impatience throwing his manners out the window. Whether it was a dissuading tactic or simply Aomine’s own lack of grace, it was infuriating and only stoked the burning desire to figure out exactly what all of this—muddled-up excitement and confusion was about. He felt so close to reaching an answer, but the door that blocked his way right now was this annoying guy. And he had begged to play him.

So why had he agreed, practically a perfect stranger, despite all his aggression and iciness? It sure didn’t feel like he felt the same way as Kagami did about this game. He sighed. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea… maybe it wouldn’t unlock that door.

“Look—“

“First to three possessions. You don’t need reminding ‘bout rules, do you.” The ball dropped from under Aomine’s feather-light hold and bounced back into his hand, a refreshing sound that rang about the court and continued as he began to dribble it in place. The noise and motion punched the thoughts right out of Kagami’s head; Aomine seemed to lose his patience with his opponent’s silence. “ _Do_ you?”

“I’m good.” He replied gruffly, trying to shake off the momentary distraction. Aomine squinted like Kagami was a cat watching a laser pointer, and headed towards the three-point line, his gaze lingering for a second over his shoulder. Kagami followed, uncertain; considering the difference in lighting that made Aomine’s face look all the more sombre, more collected, and as for the time and the place and the squeaky-clean ball he’d brought with him, he was still nervous about what the other man’s goal actually was in playing.

Each bounce of the ball on the tarmac mirrored his thumping heartbeat. It was… good nerves, he decided.

“Give you a handicap since it’s been so long.” Aomine murmured and flung the ball to Kagami without warning; he grabbed it with both hands. Controlled and light as Aomine had thrown it, a pass was a pass, and the muscle memory in Kagami’s arms seemed alive and well. He gawked a little, leaning back on his left foot but stood firmly in place.

“Don’t wanna decide the old-fashioned way?” But Aomine only huffed and slowly lifted his hands defensively away from where they’d hung at his sides.

“ _I_ still practise. C’mon.”

His tone was already tired; he may as well have kicked sand in Kagami’s eyes for the annoyance that flared up in him and coursed through his tense limbs right down to his hands; and in an instant he was dribbling the ball at his side as if he’d never needed to warm up before a game.

Despite its neighbourhood location the court was a good size, and each smack of the ball on the ground resonated through its sturdy foundation. Streetball varied so much in terrain, unlike the spotless flooring in school gyms and tournament halls, that it was difficult to recall one specific approach to this. And what was the point of remembering before playing, anyway? Aomine in front of him had only lowered his centre of gravity slightly, clearly ready but not for much.

Kagami felt that annoyance again, and thoughtlessly plunged forward with the ball to Aomine’s side. The court wasn’t huge! The hoop wasn’t out of reach! He knew how to run in bursts and recover! Piece of cake!

Aomine stretched out a hand, and before Kagami knew it, he was looking at the ball in his _opponent’s_ hold. He screeched to a halt, quickly turning back on himself to follow Aomine’s swift spin with heavy steps, empty hands ready to shove the ball from a low grip or shooting poise—

But Aomine’s shoot and hoop was unstoppable, from a silent jump and small flick of his arms. The chain net jangled as the ball dropped through and bounced to the far corner of the court. His landing was just as quiet, like a panther’s paws, inches from the tips of Kagami’s shoes. He didn’t look at the lightly-wheezing Kagami as he went after the ball but Kagami could swear he grumbled something under his breath.

“What’d you say?” He called out, breath steaming in the night air. Aomine shambled his way back, looking cold even in his puffed coat.

“Nothing.” Another shot of the ball into Kagami’s hands lightly stung his palms, and he returned to dribbling, but this time, unsure of where to put himself. He frowned as he tried to scrutinise his opponent. What had just happened was – unclear. A fluke? He hoped so. It wasn’t like him to get the ball swiped right out of his hands like that.

But then he hadn’t played in years… and if Aomine really did practise like he said, he must have a sharp eye for any weaknesses.

Still dribbling, Kagami held his breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have been relying on instinct alone. If he was to attempt strategy—he could try to dodge Aomine’s defence rather than break straight through or over, use the full width of the court to outrun his opponent? Had Aomine warmed up? He guessed not, if the cool air about him was anything to go by.

Yet a single degree of a lean to the right gave it all away; Kagami had hardly begun to move when Aomine lashed out and slapped the ball away in a powerful swipe. Speechlessly he whipped around and went to dash after it, but Aomine called after him in a sternness he hadn’t known even through the tension in the bar, “Focus, moron!”

The shout stabbed him in the ribs along with a stitch that was already starting to develop, only pinching as Kagami bent down to retrieve the ball. With it came a burst of guilt, shame… anger, flaring again. “Like your shouting’s gonna help!” he dribbled towards the three-point line in a jog to meet Aomine. Thinking about his play left him open, but then working purely on gut feeling and the learnt routines of years-old practice made him easy to read, and Aomine was telling him to concentrate on—what? Easy to say for a veteran or whatever. Annoyance tipped Kagami’s reasoning over, and he switched the ball to dribble with his other hand, the pace of his jog faltering.

In that split-second Aomine stared, hands halfway to slipping tiredly back in his pockets.

Kagami fell aside from his course and bolted straight for the key where the basket stood and between taps of the ball he heard Aomine’s footsteps tearing after him; a movement out of the corner of his eye showed him racing to match him at his side, faster than he imagined he would – his plan to try for a lay-up was shattered, but his pace salvageable, and Kagami twisted, turned on a heel to seize the ball fully and crouch in shooting poise. Instantly Aomine sensed the change in tactic and stuck in place feet away with those lazy arms held high to block him.

The temptation to reel back and look at the situation – Aomine’s eyes lit up with effort now, Kagami’s paused attempt to shoot after so long out of the sport, contrasted in the early hours of a weekday night in some Shinjuku neighbourhood – was strong yet completely eclipsed by the strain Kagami felt still screaming in his ribs, the fury at Aomine’s horrid attitude and at himself for needing that kick, so he simply used the tension like a spring and jumped, launching the ball with all the focus he could muster on that glinting chain-net in the dark.

Airtime was the worst. Once the ball had left his touch there was nothing he could do about Aomine’s bound and, as though running on a different passage of time to Kagami, he slammed the ball completely off-course. The air seemed to leave Kagami’s lungs as he landed, panting, and sprinted after the ball once more.

Aomine landed with the same controlled weight, but Kagami heard the footsteps rapidly gain on him, and the moment he turned to face the court from the chain-fence edge with ball in hand he saw the other player running full throttle for him. It was either a straight-up murder attempt, or—the game was continuing without a referee’s whistle to assign the ball. Kagami’s lungs still ached for oxygen.

No time to return to the three-point line at that speed; practically guiding it through the air, Kagami whisked the ball under his fingers and darted away at a fast dribble with Aomine on his tail, desperate to outrun him. Aomine’s pace was ruthless and the sheer force he could hear in those heavy steps struck the slightest chord of anxiety within Kagami as he raced around the court, only able to spin and throw his dribble from left to right hand when his thoughts disconnected from the pain in his ribs and let his body find a flow between hand movements and a relentless run.

And he tried, he furiously _tried_ to keep his mind on the paint and the basket but Aomine’s eyes blazed at him every time he closed the gap to a mere few feet or even inches, near enough to feel the swish of Aomine’s hoodie-strings in the air whipping around them. Kagami’s mind still wouldn’t let him contemplate just what that expression was meant to read. A balance between action and reaction had been found.

Too close to the corner of the paint Kagami found himself stuck for running-space as Aomine quickly penned him in; distrusting the concept of a dribble in place, Kagami glowered at Aomine in all his wide defence, and clutched the ball at his side—

For a pass? He saw his own shocked confusion at the instinctive move reflected in Aomine’s eyes as disbelief, a quirk of an eyebrow, the beginnings of mental exhaustion threatening to wipe out the light that those blue eyes finally held—a pass, in one-on-one?

He hadn’t counted on the slightest slackening of Aomine’s arms in response, however, and in that window of opportunity Kagami burst through with a dribble directly past Aomine’s outstretched arm. Only a quick enough run-up and his lay-up could work, if a dunk didn’t, but the heel of Aomine’s sneaker ground hard against the tarmac with the sound of crushing rubber, and the ball’s ribbed surface burnt Kagami’s fingertips as Aomine slammed it out of his hold for a third time. It hit the chain fence with a violent jangle.

Kagami wavered, jelly-legged in shock; it was Aomine’s sudden charge at him in that pause that pushed him over to fall on his ass, hard. He hadn’t even touched him. It had merely felt like he was about to. And how Aomine glared down at him – his eyes were wide, livid, disbelieving.

“Don’t try that again. Get up.” Panting and sweating, Kagami boggled, Aomine’s words simply not meshing with the part of his brain that did language; it was too busy convincing his body to stop hurting and accept air again. Aomine clenched his fists. “Get up! Kagami!” he shouted, dashing off the court for the ball again.

With that level of impatience betrayed in his voice Kagami wondered why he was bothering to even continue the game. But sure enough Aomine dribbled back to the three-point line and gestured with his free hand, scowling as Kagami got to his feet. No sooner had he jogged up than Aomine thrust the ball into his hands again and whipped up his arms in a furious defence. It was a wordless prompt to continue the game with no breaks. _God_ , thought Kagami, _I didn’t know I sucked that bad_. The guy had to set him back up with the ball and everything. Did he even have it in him to keep encouraging Kagami like a dog that couldn’t fetch?

Pathetic, honestly. He didn’t know what was more unbelievable; that he was apparently so great at basketball in the first place, or that he’d fallen to this level, practically a first-day rookie at the game. But if Aomine believed in him – and he had to, if the fact that they were playing at all was to be counted on – then there had to be a grain of truth. Somewhere.

Surely.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Kagami soothed his nerves. His palm felt the individual bumps on the ball’s rubber in each gentle contact as he dribbled. Aomine’s arms didn’t move.

He took a careful step backwards, still dribbling; Aomine seemed ready to stretch out, but stayed rooted. Kagami stepped again. His opponent walked forward one pace.

Kagami broke into a run across the court, this time not stopping for Aomine’s lunging blocks, instead turning and dashing around him at each thrust of his arm trying to swipe the ball away. This time, it felt like he was trying to gain possession rather than just bat it away – that made Kagami hold onto the ball all the more urgently, with a panic that shot from his heart to the roots of his hair when he felt the whoosh of air from Aomine’s fingertips piercing through his dribble. But he held onto it, the dribble becoming heavier, almost slower as they circled and spun around one another towards the net, reluctant to let the ball leave his hand—and if he’d ‘travelled’ by mistake once or twice, Aomine didn’t notice, only stepping and leaning closer as if to use that motion to finally take it back.

With his heart in his throat Kagami realised that they were underneath the basket itself, only vaguely picking up the shadow of its beam in the corner of his vision, eyes transfixed on Aomine planted before him. And how he seemed to tense more with every thump of the ball, ready to pounce.

He couldn’t bear much more of being stared down, and every way he tried to think how to break out of the situation ended in a dead end. Kagami struggled to breathe through his constricted throat and—

And, jumped. A dunk wasn’t the most impossible thing that could happen, was it?

Aomine saw it first, leapt first, and still, centimetres from Kagami’s face, grabbed the ball—

But Kagami saw his face, and in his eyes as he swung the ball hard through the net, wasn’t focus, but exhaustion.

Kagami landed messily on his heels without even a second to assess the perfectly straight drop of the ball from hoop to the ground, for how his opponent seemed hardly to have left his place; with a face like thunder, Aomine held out an open hand. Confusion reigned Kagami for a split second, until the ball lightly bounced, a smooth curve directly into Aomine’s palm. He bounced it once before launching it up into the net again.

It was a perfect basket, and he hadn’t changed posture from standing, staring, eyes dull even through the breaths that surrounded him with a faint smog.

He didn’t even have to move to score over Kagami. The ball pinged against the foot of the beam and bounced off into a corner of the court. Kagami was wheezing as he faced Aomine—

_God_ , to think that barely an hour ago, they were practically strangers; and now, the investment they’d both had in the game was tangible, from the ache in Kagami’s chest as he dragged in breaths to the sweat that was starting to run cold down his skin. Of course they had both been invested enough to work hard, for all of Aomine’s effortless blocks – why else would he look so disappointed in him, stood there ignoring the ball rolling away, and his full gaze on—or, maybe, through Kagami.

Kagami… had never felt this powerless.

As he forced in another miserably painful breath, Aomine spoke. Or, more accurately, laughed.

Kagami stared but he kept laughing, face twisted into a weak grimace, and the tone of his voice ringing out bleakly until the sound became hoarse huffs, humourless clouds of warm air in the cloudless sky. His voice was thick and raspy.

“It’s stupid. Ohhh, stupid, ain’t it. That you beat me.”

Agog, Kagami spluttered. “What’re you talking about—you got to three! Just like that!”

“Years ago, years ago.”

The mention of this long-ago confrontation frustrated Kagami even more, if that was possible; his voice came out a desperate squawk. “I don’t _know_ that—“

“Then who are you? Kagami?”

“Yes?!”

Aomine laughed again and shook his head, but by now he was already turning away again. “You’re not him. He wanted to play again and again, he shouted when he lost. There’s something there but I can’t see it.”

“I’m—“ The flickers of blue and red, head-to-head, on that bitty phone-screen video flashed in his mind. Aches in his legs and pain in his arms. “I played you! I _did_ play you! Don’t say that wasn’t me!”

“Then who beat us, back then? Who beat Kise? Who beat Akashi?”

Were those names? Kagami’s lungs filled and stung, his mind was buzzing now, struggling to find a foothold on those words—those people—Aomine named. Were they important? Were they there? His mental images knew only the billowing black and white jerseys, numbers lost, certainly no names to all the glaringly bright colours and lights of tournament courts.

Kagami tried to follow Aomine’s pace, but his shoe dragged on the tarmac, and he had to make a decision between speaking and moving. His feet were sore from the running, knees shaking. “It—it’s been years—“

But it came out like a plea that hardly reached Aomine at the entrance of the court, only making him pause – clearly nothing but a pause, since he didn’t even look back to speak.

“You did. Seirin did. You won the Winter Cup that year and we all witnessed it, that passion. But now you can’t even get a single hoop in a one-on-one.”

The Winter Cup. Seirin. Seirin won.

The words mushed together in the whirlwind of information and images in his head, and the thought to chase Aomine for more information was completely drowned out by the questions that bubbled up relentlessly. His head felt like it was developing an instantaneous migraine, full to bursting.

He only heard Aomine mutter “Idiot,” before the clang of the unlocked door punctuated his exit, scuffing footsteps slowly echoing away from the court. But the irritation that had kept flaring up like a kneejerk reaction was nowhere to be found; once Kagami realised that, he felt… suddenly, empty. Gone was the storm of thoughts and memories that swept away all of his senses.

Not that he was sure if he’d held all those memories in the first place. Blinking, he made out that the court door didn’t have a lock at all, so… he figured he was safe to sit on the tarmac.

Collapse on his ass, more like. He crumpled, knees twitching as they fell open on the uneven ground, uncomfortably stretching and attempting to recover from the sprints; the cool night now was a cold that sunk its teeth into his body, and Kagami started to shiver.

Wherever Aomine was getting his ammo, it was extremely effective—Kagami was _reeling_. If he stood again he knew his head would start spinning and it wouldn’t only be from exertion. Every insult or comment he slung at him seemed to come from somewhere deeper than he could understand in the minutes spent on the court, let alone in the bar’s bustle.

So Seirin had won the Winter Cup. Was it that much of a big deal…? If he really dug into his sensory memories, rather than some kind of event timeline, he remembered a huge meal out—after the battering his body took from all the high-fives, the chest-bumps, body-slams of hugs from teammates, the throb that rocked his entire body when he woke the next morning incapable of believing the victory.

But then they always celebrated madly after a win—a win that didn’t tread on the heels of an important successive match the very next day—so was that the victory that meant so much to Aomine…?

Did it mean that much to him too? Kagami thought of himself shattered after a loss, or elated after a team success.

He found nothing. Not even pure neutrality.

He couldn’t remember their coach’s congratulations or the pitch of her wailing with joy; their senpai had flown to the US after a farewell party… The spring months were filled with streetball matches between the other schools in the area…

Streetball, huh? Had it all ended there? Only playing as a hobby? Maybe the senpai all graduated, and the team…

But how could he have taken it seriously – the practice it would have taken to get to that tournament – if he couldn’t get one possession over Aomine? He said he’d practiced recently, but Kagami didn’t think of himself as that easy to read…

Then again, thinking of that video… Aomine was his own kind of level. A level that Kagami had once matched.

His palms were still warm from dribbling and the sting made him look up and around for the ball in the court. It was nestled in a kicked-in curve of the court fencing. Well, it was probably Aomine’s, so no point returning it. That trash-talk certainly didn’t show he was eager to play him again.

Soon Kagami felt cold inside and out, and an in-breath for a sigh was sharp rather than soothing. He hadn’t been able to open that door a crack, let alone shake the chains that bound it. Aomine hadn’t helped. Pointed at a key, perhaps.

He had more knowledge but no grasp on the truth, and every fact was crowded in by confusion.

He—he was going to sit for a few more minutes before trying to leave again, he thought. Or at least until Hide called him in confusion to find the car. He definitely felt sober now—ready to sleep it all off, and maybe tomorrow, he’d ask Kuroko about all that Winter Cup stuff.

 

…Oh shit. _Kuroko_.

\--

At 4am tucked into the corner of his couch, Kuroko was still awake, bags deepening under his large eyes. Neither the blue light of his smartphone screen nor the lamp he’d kept on in the corner of his small and cosy front room were doing a very good job of keeping him awake. Not comfortably awake, anyway. Sunday was his day off so there wasn’t much to lose by oversleeping in the morning after staying up late…

That was the theory, but he could feel himself losing his grip on reality with each minute passing by. He certainly wasn’t built for being awake past midnight; or at the very least, his work pattern didn’t allow for much leeway. That didn’t stop Kagami trying to push him on the odd occasion.

Even so long after graduation, past the coming-of-age ceremony, at a time in his life when one wouldn’t necessarily _mind_ being ID’ed for the cinema, Kuroko remained lithe and subtle no matter where he went. Rather than a purposeful quietness of step, he had a lack of presence that didn’t wear off with age, a manner that spooked anyone who didn’t realise he was standing beside them. In a way that subtlety was helpful when it came to his choice of career as a daycare worker – the most fragile babies stayed asleep in his arms as he carried them to cots, and unruly toddlers hardly realised their nappies had been changed during their tantrum. Letting the attention slide off him like water off a duck’s feathers; that was what coaches and strategists named ‘misdirection’.

He was thankful that he was never drowned out by his own ghostlike existence. Everybody from school who was important to him had stayed in touch. Especially Kagami… who, if anything, had only clutched onto him more tightly over the years.

…Unfortunately, that wasn’t his fault. Kuroko had a lot of mixed feelings about that fact. But, as he was never asked, he never divulged it.

It was only natural that someone as fierce and formidable as his teammate and partner on the court gained such an important role as a career. Every moment from cadet training to a first call-out to his recent ‘graduation’ to a permanent firefighter position had been fraught with excitement and celebration, and Kuroko was more than happy to visit when he could; to answer texts at all times, aware of the danger associated with his job; to ensure he was safely on his way home. But the life of a firefighter on duty at unsociable hours clashed with his daylight-only responsibilities.

Simply put, it was a shame that they had to operate on such vastly different timetables. These days Kagami seemed confident that Kuroko wasn’t concerned about his call-outs, and Kuroko came to assume that no calls meant no trouble. Lately, however, the timestamps on texts had become erratic despite the regularity of his shifts… the calls, randomly-timed.

Kuroko had been tired for more than one day, to be honest. In his scrambled and sleepy mind he grouchily wondered if he was on his last leg now, ready to tell Kagami to stick to a strict texting curfew until he got put on shifts that ended earlier than 2am.

He said he would text him. Because, ‘going out drinking someplace Ive never been, gotta trust Hide but driving home’ didn’t quite instil confidence in Kuroko. He’d drunk-driven before (well—one beer and a short journey, but he’d still swerved horribly from the right to the left lane, and the nauseous panic remained more vivid in Kuroko’s mind than the frantic apology immediately after); Kagami also had that tendency to drive sleepy, and to drive stressed and distracted after a particularly chaotic call-out.

But the phone that sat beside him on the sofa like a flatmate had been quiet for some time. The only noises in his home besides a turned-down television game show were distant neighbourhood echoes; housewife chatter from the balcony across from his and cats fighting in some faraway bins.

Kuroko slowly came to hear a strange tune that grew louder and louder in his hearing, the more he listened to it. Familiar.

With a blink awake and a little jolt he realised he must have dozed off in his exhaustion, and the sound was his phone’s ringtone picking up momentum as it gently vibrated in the sofa cushions. Its melody sounded strange through the haze of waking-up, and he picked up, answering the call without properly registering what the screen had to say, timewise or caller-wise.

“Kagami-kun?” His voice was thick and soft from the brief nap; a loud, energetic tone cut through his sleepiness like a knife.

“ _Kurokocchi_! Kurokocchi, I need your help!”

…--chi… Oh, oh dear.

Kuroko pinched the bridge of his nose and held the phone away from his ear for a moment, staring at the screen. _Aomine Residence_. Okay. It made sense, but he didn’t like it, or expect it at all. After the pause he answered again, sighing.

“Kise-kun, good evening… I’m waiting to receive a text, so…”

“Ehhh?” His old teammate whined as though let down, and picked back up without a pause. “More importantly, Aominecchi’s acting really weird and I thought, you know—you know when he’s quiet, and moo-oo-oody, when he’s glum like that he won’t tell me anything at all, just grumps around… But he’ll talk to you… Did something happen, do you know?”

This sounded like drama that Kuroko didn’t want to get into. He had to keep his phone free for a call from Kagami, or even just the bleep of a text that would easily get lost under the call’s audio. Beyond that, he didn’t appreciate being relied on for this kind of trouble…

Except, for Aomine…

It hadn’t been difficult to get used to the idea of his two former teammates becoming an item, let alone engaged, but it did make things a little tedious when Aomine became a little more unreachable as a friend once Kise had begun using a shared landline, and from time to time, a shared smartphone. To an extent it was intriguing that Kuroko was still the only person other than Aomine’s childhood friend to be able to prise open that tightly-shut front he always kept when he wanted to express it the most. It would be a problem if his emotional difficulties started to gnaw at him like it did when he was a teenager, Kuroko thought. It was better to talk about it than to let him stew and get worse.

“I don’t know if anything happened. I haven’t received anything from anybody tonight.” He said honestly, if tiredly. Didn’t the chatty Kise have his finger on the pulse of gossip, or something? Better resources if he wanted to be a detective about his fiancé’s mood swings?

“Ohh, that’s unusual for you…!”

“Not particularly. Our friends tend to keep to early nights in general, so I don’t get bothered late in the evening.”

It was pointed, but Kise missed it, because he continued humming in concern as though trying to vocalise his thought process. “You _knooow_ he has late nights usually, but I’m making an effort to regulate my pattern too! Shooting’s been taking hours this month ‘cause of the sunshine sticking around longer but it’s still nothing compared to flying so maybe my body clock has completely gone out of whack? Heheh. My bad, Kurokocchi!”

Kuroko said nothing, the positively radiant cheer beaming through his phone’s speaker practically singeing his ear off. Kise gasped and caught himself.

“Wait, yeah, Aominecchi! Anyway like I was _saying_ , he’s doing that thing where he’s all stormy in the face and slamming doors and stuff. Like it feels like he fell out with somebody. Did you.. argue with him…?”

“No…”

“Hmmmm…”

No amount of tuneful umm-ing was going to solve this case. Kuroko wasn’t sure what to suggest. Right in that moment his legs were cold in his pyjama trousers, his arm already ached from holding up the phone, and he wanted to hang up and feel the buzz of a text message arrive, then sleep for several days. Kagami needed to hurry up; Kise needed to try harder to talk to Aomine; Aomine needed to stop sulking, all so Kuroko could go to bed at long last.

He winced again as Kise made a surprised sound, a sharp blip in the audio. Then he nearly dropped the phone out of fright when it buzzed in his hand right there, but with the cheery shout of ‘Line!’ of his messaging app.

The call on background, he blinked blearily at the screen, popping up little green notifications until he accessed the chat. It was Momoi, their coach from middle school. Her cute selfie-icon and nickname didn’t match her panicked typing style at all in the frantically-filling message screen.

_Sacchi: you guys !!!!_

_Sacchi: really big pinch !!! we might be in a really big pinch!..!!_

_r y o u t a n : momocchi good eveni_

_r y o u t a n : [sticker]_

_r y o u t a n : oh no trouble on your end too??_

_Sacchi: kise kun im sorry theres big trouble!!! daikun messed up_

It had been weeks since he’d last received any group messages so the format almost looked like an alien language, but Kuroko plunged past the frequently-changed screennames to focus on the main conversation, suddenly alert. ‘Dai-kun’ was her nickname for Aomine. And he’d apparently messed up. The phone continued tooting and buzzing in his hands.

_Sacchi: i called him on the way home cause were getting lunch tomorrow and so I wanted to check the times and o m g_

_Sacchi: he saw kagami kun_

Kuroko’s stomach dropped.

_Sacchi: actually to tell the truth he said.. he talked to kagami kun_

_Sacchi: a lot…….. [cry]_

_r y o u t a n : momocchi you’re right that’s bad [cry][laugh]_

_Sacchi: [cry][cry]_

_r y o u t a n : he didnt tell him anything too much right???if they talked ?_

_Sacchi: he played one on one with him_

_r y o u t a n : eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh_

Over the phone speaker he heard Kise’s voice echo his messaging, and it only drove home the surrealism of the situation.

Aomine and Kagami weren’t supposed to meet any more.

Kuroko felt hollow, and he turned it into words, speaking through Kise’s scuffling and shocked gawping on the other end.

“Kise-kun.”

“Kurokochiiiii! Diiiid youuuu seeeeeeee what Momocchi said?!”

“Will you get Aomine-kun to call my landline please?”

There was a pause amidst the frantic energy of Kise moving about his home trying to search out his spouse-to-be. “…I don’t know if we have your landline?! It’d be great if I could write it down! Hang on, I’ll—“

_Panic stations_. Some plan to keep one eye on his mobile while giving his friend a talking-to. “Um. Nevermind. Please pass the phone to him instead.”

“Yep, yep, _Aominecchi, come outta there! Kurokocchi’s on the line for you_!”

He wasn’t prepared for the sudden spike in volume, so Kuroko simply held the phone away once more, waiting until the shuffling and snippets of bickering calmed down and evened out, replaced by stillness. Then, a low voice.

“Yo.”

Kuroko approached his handset again.

“Aomine-kun.”

He didn’t really feel like greeting him properly despite his usual politeness. As if waiting for a ‘good evening’, Aomine stayed silent for a few moments. If Kuroko didn’t feel so stressed at the situation he might have found it funny, the almost audible tension on the other end, when he said nothing.

Eventually he broke the silence.

“Momoi-san messaged us just now.”

“Nn.”

_That’s not a reply_ , Kuroko thought, _but at least he feels culpable._ After some more seconds of drawn-out silence, he heard Aomine shift.

“What’d she say.”

“She said that you spoke to Kagami-kun a lot, and then played one-on-one with him. Is that really true?”

“…More or less.”

Kuroko dragged a hand down his face. As dear as Aomine was to him, the man was still an idiot. That was a part of him that didn’t seem likely to ever change.

“Could I possibly ask what happened? I’m still waiting for him to message me to say that he got home safely.”

Aomine’s begrudging tone was hardly above a mumble, like a child being scolded. “Why don’t you ask _him_ then.”

“Aomine-kun, I know that you’re in a bad mood. But please give me some help. I want to understand what it is that’s happened from your perspective.”

Kuroko’s spoken equivalent of crouching down to meet his tantruming toddler at eye-level softened Aomine somewhat. Or it might have just been the exhaustion in his voice starting to make his patience crack.

“He was at monthly drinks for some reason, with his friend. Or co-worker. I think I met him before once but y’know, people, faces, names. Then Mai saw us and started yappin’ about the Winter Cup and then I couldn’t shake him off.”

“Somebody mentioned the Winter Cup?”

Aomine laughed. “Bound to happen, with my shitty luck.”

“You mustn’t talk like that…”

“Whatever. I tried to shut it down but he followed me out of there and got all fired up about the match, talking about playing again. Wouldn’t quit.”

Kuroko could imagine Kagami’s tenacity for himself. Another pause had him wondering if Aomine was recalling it as well.

“Even when we played he wouldn’t quit.”

“You shouldn’t have played him, Aomine-kun.” murmured Kuroko in a lapse of attention, eyelids lowering. He instantly regretted those words – how cutting they were, when he had just managed to coax his friend into speaking with him – and Aomine was silent, as though unsure of how to respond.

“I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“’s’fine.” Aomine grumbled, even lower if that was possible, consonants barely holding up the words.

“Please continue, if it’s okay.”

“Nothin’ much else to say.”

Kuroko strained slightly. “Surely there is.”

“Not from me, Tetsu. You know how this stuff goes.” He paused. “With him, I mean. If you wanna chew me out, don’t bother, Satsuki already did that, and Kise wants to hear what I did first and _then_ yell at me. I don’t need it. It’s stupid o’clock and I feel like shit too.”

Kise’s perky voice was staccato in the background audio of the call, somewhat filling the silence that gaped between Kuroko and Aomine. Kuroko sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Thank you for talking to me. Sleep well.”

“’ll try.”

“Goodnight, Aomine-kun.”

“Bye.”

He hesitated to hang up, at least until Kise’s voice increased in volume on the handset and he quickly hit the ‘end call’ symbol, the call screen giving over to hundreds of LINE notifications from the chat. Before he could face them he tried to compose himself, only for his vision to blur out, the screen a fuzzy mishmash of bright green and white. It made the room feel colder around him despite his layered pyjamas and the warmth of dozing off intermittently making him uncomfortable and dizzy where he sat.

Poor Aomine. He didn’t need to say it for Kuroko to know that, however angry or hurt he was by his actions, Aomine felt worse about it. He always kicked himself for his poor judgement. He simply never acted sorry in a conventional or obvious enough way for anyone to give him a break.

As for himself, though… Kuroko didn’t know how to feel, beyond the dizziness and out-of-body exhaustion. His phone was blowing up with messages encased in the chat – the others in the group must all be wired with stress, if they weren’t lucky enough to have muted their phones overnight.

Kagami wasn’t supposed to meet Aomine. Less specifically, he wasn’t supposed to meet any of Seirin’s Winter Cup challengers. Anything basketball-related… high-school-related… anything _definitive_ from that year was off-limits, let alone a ruthless rival who matched him so closely from style to tenacity.

He wondered if Kagami truly did forget going up against him. He can’t have, if he had hounded Aomine like that. Perhaps that person who mentioned the match gave him more information and it led him to run after a total stranger. Well, that was quite Kagami-like, to act on a gut feeling. But he wasn’t sure if Kagami had gut feelings about all those forgotten people just by being near them. After all, still speaking to Kuroko after these years, he didn’t show any signs of remembering anything he wasn’t supposed to…

Thinking about it made his head pound, and in the depths of his doziness, Kuroko’s heart panged. It wasn’t something that he could investigate all on his own, in the early hours, non-emotionally—or, indeed, devoid of attachment. Aomine must have felt the same, witnessing an unknowing old rival try to challenge him without understanding the gravity of what he was doing. In fact… he must have felt _worse_. But then, he didn’t have the added concern of knowing the other party. Kuroko glumly looked at his phone again, showing 159 unread messages, with sore eyes registering faintly the colourful text bubbles clouding out responses he couldn’t see.

_What a sticky situation_. He sighed and tapped in a message to put an end to all this stress, for now.

_Kuroko : Goodnight, everyone_

…Was that enough, he wondered. It would have to do considering his state. But responses were trickling in swiftly amongst all the gossip.

_Sacchi : tetsukun goodnight! [sticker] sorry for all the trouble [cry][cry] i didn’t mean to make you worry !!!_

_Sacchi : dai kun will apologise to you too [cry]_

_Murasaki : bye byyy_

_r y o u t a n : kurokocchi sweet dreams [cheer] [sticker]_

_Murasaki : sechin pls stop using those annoying sticker_

_r y o u t a n : [laugh] so who won the one on one anyway ? momocchi did he say ???_

_r y o u t a n : [cry][laugh][cry] murasakibaracchi so rude [laugh]_

 

Kuroko held his breath, waiting for the last active user to reply. With this, he could surely get some footing for the kind of person Kagami was now. The kind of Kagami that Aomine met.

A new notification dropped down from the top of the screen, a text message, that sparked Kuroko awake again. From Kagami, a strange jumble of letters, keysmashing and autocorrecting his way to a ‘ _got home / weird stuff happened but I’m fine /drunky / bye_ ’ kind of message. He smiled in relief, and let his eyes wander back to the conversation.

_daiki:_

_daiki: me, obviously_

_daiki: who do you take me for_


	6. Chapter 6

_Buzz_.

Nothing urgent.

Buzz.

His alarm sure was doing something weird.

Buzz.

Anyway, he didn’t have snooze mode on his phone…

Buzz.

Maybe that was the ringtone pattern. He forgot.

Buzz.

Kagami reached out to address the phone on its bender of short notification buzzes, fingertips numb from a dreadful sleeping position that forced body weight in all the wrong places, and knocked it between the mattress and the bedframe.

_Buuuzzzzzzz._

_Well, great_. Now it was making the whole frame vibrate like roadworks drilling through the frame instead of on top of the sheets. It was less irritating down there than so close to his head. Kagami didn’t open his eyes, but the brightening red behind his eyelids probably meant daylight… right?

One curtain was left open, midday sunshine heating up the sheets at the foot of the bed. Between the warmth and the occasional buzz (minutes apart, but it felt like seconds in the heavy wash of his mind and sore head) Kagami felt altogether too scrambled, and eventually rolled over.

“Damn-“ His head hurt, felt weighty, but not with vertigo or nausea. Just regular heavy. It took some moments of blearily focusing on the dust on his pillow to realise his eyes were open and he certainly was in the waking-up process.

His phone buzzed once more, and with new sensation in his fingertips he grunted and stuck a hand into the bedframe to retrieve it.

There was just… too much new stuff going on at the moment to try to figure out names and definitions for everything. Once the initial crawling-ants feeling of the blood rushing back into his hands had washed away, in came the soreness of his palms, light and tingling from rubber bumps of a basketball. A strain in his right wrist. The click of his elbow as he straightened an arm to reach the other curtain. Even a bruise on his ass when he sank back into the mattress, on his back.

And the buzzing… It felt like being in a group chat, but it was one text message’s alert, repeating over and over. Safety mechanism.

The characters of Kuroko’s name aligned themselves in the display once Kagami’s eyes properly took in light and colours again, and he sighed. He unlocked the phone, navigated to messages to clear the notification and put it face-down on the mattress again. Screwing up his eyes, he thought about how damn long it look for him to actually contact Kuroko last night – this had to be payback for messaging him in the early hours. _Can’t ignore that guy forever_ , he thought, and sat up with a deep breath, snatching up the phone in one movement.

 

_Hello Kagami-kun. I hope you’re OK after your rough night. It must be your day off today._

Others might read such a polite tone as nothing to be worried about, but that longer message than usual – he sure messed up. That’s the kind of text tone Kuroko took with him when it felt like there was some explaining to do. Kagami sighed and bit the bullet; he hit ‘call’ and took to the shrill blare of the ringing tone.

“Hello.” Faster than he expected!

“Kuroko, morning.”

“It’s the afternoon.”

Kagami glanced passingly at the blinding crack in the curtains as he stood and attempted to jimmy some trousers on one-handedly. “Uh, my bad. Listen, Kuroko, sorry I missed your text, messaged you real late last night. I had a – a wild weird night. Shoulda kept you updated better than uhhhh, the time I think I texted…”

On the other end, Kuroko’s shoulders relaxed, relieved that Kagami didn’t read too deeply into his anxious text small-talk. That was a habit he only reverted to when he was nervous to breach a subject. “That’s okay. It doesn’t happen often, after all.”

“Hmm.” Kagami shrugged into a clean shirt. “Guess not, huh?”

“Not at all.”

“R-Right.” God, he felt like he’d made a bigger deal of it than what it truly was. Kagami busied himself with opening curtains in each room, his bedroom, the kitchen-lounge filling with light. All he’d done is have one night out, but it had been such a bizarre break from routine that his mind ached with guilt and that tired, awkward thought about significant contacts ‘in case of emergency’ tried to sneak their way in through a crack in his defences.

“Hey-“

“Um-“

“Eh-“ Kagami shrank a little as his voice and Kuroko’s clashed. He paused.

“Uh, sorry. You were saying?”

Kuroko shook his head gently, more to himself to dispel nerves than for reassuring his friend. “Kagami-kun, you said you had a strange night in your last message?”

“Yeah, right, so-“ This, this was way easier to blab about than anything deep. “So last night Hide took us out to this bar he goes to all the time, I’ve never visited but seems like the emergency services have a booze-up there sometimes, right? We’re havin’ drinks with everyone, paramedics, drivers, the other Tokyo ward fire squads and all, and some punk from Shibuya or Shinjuku or whatever squad starts a fight with me about-“

“With you?”

Kagami bristled a little, unsure of how to take it. “Y-Yeah! Thought he was actin’ moody but he went from nought to 60 in a few seconds after some other officer, turns out, she knew both of us from high school – sports – you know – basketball. Had some clip of one of our games. Ring any bells?”

“Ah,” Kuroko was startled out of his intense silence. “Basketball, right.”

“Right, I was really surprised – ‘cause the thing is we must have really been into it at the time in high school but I’d totally forgotten all about it ‘til then! I only remembered when I saw the video. It was really—” Kagami scrambled for vocabulary, “—something else. Out of this world. We played so well back then, man. And we played after since he got so up himself, and I _sucked_. Fell down on the court and all!”

He waited for Kuroko’s reply for a few strained seconds. Tense only because he felt his heart fluttering as he thought about the match and the clip.

“Sounds like you had fun despite it.” Kuroko spoke, calm-sounding as ever. As though Kagami was just telling him about the weather. Kagami frowned, somewhat annoyed that the response was so lacklustre. He’d played someone from high school tournaments, wasn’t that seriously unusual? _At least act nostalgic, man!_

“What’re you saying, jeez-“ But for all his annoyance he only managed to mumble dejectedly, “’Course it was fun! It was basketball. I mean, yeah, losing wasn’t fun, I felt so powerless in front of someone like him. But that’s because I’m really outta practice. He said he still trains so in that sense I guess it was decided from the start.”

“Well…” Kuroko breathed, “I suppose, as long as you knew a little bit of how to play you had a chance.”

“That’s the thing, I felt sorta like I had some basics, and some trickier stuff like I guess I woulda learned years later, and just about nothing in-between. It wasn’t like, riding a bike and you remember. It was completely stuck in my brain.”

Kuroko saw a chance and leapt on it. Trying to engage with last night’s events wasn’t something he could approach right now. Not safely. “Surely that’s because you decided to play in the middle of the night?”

When he heard Kagami’s voice waver and splutter, combined with the sound of crockery clattering on a surface, he felt the conversation safely change tracks. “No, listen, I know it was late! But it was different!”

“If you were still drunk at 5am, Kagami-kun, I would have disqualified you from such a match.”

“That’s harsh, man…”

“What I mean to say is, Kagami-kun is good at taking things in stride. So because it was a basketball match with a winner and loser it seems normal. But someone like a drunken officer who is good at basketball is still a drunken person with a fuzzy head. You were drinking too, you texted me so…”

Kagami stopped eating his overdone toast and scraped-together breakfast to hear him out. “Kuroko…”

After a slightly embarrassed silence on both ends, his friend spoke again. “So, don’t worry too much. These things happen with lots of people in one small place. Funny things happened with the team at high school, too, after all.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Kagami wasn’t convinced; like he said, he could just about vaguely guess that weird stuff happened back then. He wasn’t sure. The only memory that stood out was the scent of an all-you-can-eat steakhouse but even that had no names or faces attached. Wasn’t olfactory meant to be the sharpest sense for memories?

“And you have the rest of the day off before work tomorrow. Please don’t waste it on an unruly stranger.”

“Mmm,” He took a break for a long gulp of coffee, “you do too, right? Wanna grab something at Maji Burger?”

“—Sorry… I made plans for today. I’m being picked up, so…” Kagami nodded and picked up a fifth slice of toast. Must be his rich friend again, the one Kuroko rarely dropped anything for. “But next time you have a free day.”

“I’ll send you my rota after this.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks for picking up, Kuroko.”

“Anytime.”

The line went silent. Kagami flicked through his photo files to find a screenshot of his shifts, but stopped after a few swipes. He felt bad for knowing that _anytime_ wasn’t a possibility if one night out was enough to earn him a gentle, yet guilty Kuroko-style scolding.

 

\--

Turned out Hide wasn’t mad about Kagami ditching last night so much as fake-upset that he didn’t get to drunk-drive home with his work bro -- his phone beeped and buzzed so incessantly with crying-face emoji messages that he turned off the damn thing before anybody on the train carriage could shoot him a nasty look. To counteract his own grumpy mood (hey, it wasn’t like he was being plagued with guilt today for fun!) Kagami left his seat and lingered by the doors ahead of the change he’d need to make further down the Odakyu line.

The point of leaving the house without the comfort of the car was to break routine a second time, he supposed – no point returning to a car likely filled with fast-food trash and low on fuel if he wanted to set aside the events of the night before. Public transport already had a driver, so with nobody at his mercy when he was at the wheel he could relax a little.

Well, an outing would let him reset. Figure out how to say sorry to Hide and forget all about jerks in Shinjuku and return to his usual hungry self.

Before he knew it, on the Chiyoda line he realised he’d seen two parks whizz by in a short space of time and didn’t take note of which one had that tiny fire they’d had to rush to the other week, nor which was technically the ‘scenic’ one, both of which were on his to-see list today. His impromptu tiny list of ‘see something outside’ and ‘eat’ that was slowly becoming even less structured as the name of the next station flashed on the carriage display.

Nishi-Nippori.

…He wasn’t going to go for a meal, but he could break routine with something familiar, right? The café in Nippori wouldn’t mind if he dropped in, surely. Just as a customer…

Images of fresh coffee and a smiling bartender in the early evening pasted themselves over the feel of the morning’s dry mouth and sound of Kuroko’s concern.

He made his choice and figured out his route on foot from the station. Marigold Way was, unsurprisingly, not as metropolitan as bus stop maps would have him believe.

_As a customer. As a customer_. He forced his mind to repeat it until his shoulders lost some of the tension in them, from the station to the shops’ arcade with the warm glow of the heaters but since a change in his nervous state wasn’t happening any time soon and there were only so many minutes he could stand stiffly in front of Rhumbaba’s doors without potentially encountering a bothered shopkeeper, he went for it and slid the panel open as nicely and calmly as he could.

It opened with a stuck, juddering noise and – even in a moment of fear he remembered, first-name basis – Tatsuya further in the seating area seemed as surprised as he was by the sound; as though both were wind-up toys with only the tiniest mechanism, the bartender shot a glance at the door with a flick of his fringe, and Kagami stood rigidly in the doorway with his fingers practically making dents in the wood.

“Welcome to…” Tatsuya began calling, then straightened up and frowned. “Huh, is the door stuck? Is it - ah… Taiga.”

Just his luck – Kagami, caught off-guard both by his entrance and the very first person to greet him, raised his eyebrows and attempted to peel his sweaty palm off the panel frame. “—My bad, I didn’t think it was gonna be so light…” In an attempt to prove he didn’t know his own strength or suchlike he gave it another gentle push, which had the door only wedge more firmly in place. His panic levels skyrocketed as Tatsuya approached the doorway, nearly toe-to-toe with him while he gave his own try at unsticking the door, that cascading black fringe only inches from his face. He gave the wood a few testing shoves and Kagami watched sideways as though his efforts were making any difference. He wasn’t wearing the dressy uniform he had on last time, just a clean grey sweatshirt.

Wild how quick this guy was to jump into things, for all his calm.

“No worries – it’s been doing that all day. We’ll sort it before the bar opens.” Tatsuya turned to face him at last, giving a trimmed-down smile that seemed to send tiny sparks through the roots of Kagami’s hair. Or maybe it was just static from proximity? “What brings you here, Taiga?”

Kagami tried not to eat his own tongue before speaking. “Day off, actually.”

“Surely not. We only ever have you here after a round of checkups.” Could have sounded dry, but Kagami saw the corner of Tatsuya’s mouth curve as he said it. “No certificates you wanna see?”

“Not even any paperwork I wanna get signed.” To show a total lack of any equipment or remotely work-looking clothing, Kagami lifted both his hands. Tatsuya smiled like that was proof enough for him and stepped back to snake a path back to the bar, where he picked up a menu. Heading away from the doorway Kagami noticed the place was half-filled with shoppers steadily putting away wallets and gathering up their belongings. Just slowly as the afternoon drew on. A glimpse of another member of the café was Hiro ducking out back with a few stacks of plates.

“Well, I won’t turn you away. You’re lucky I actually got a while before I’m on the clock,” That smooth voice jerked Kagami back to the present moment stood with a card menu being offered to him; having forgotten all about the concept of coming here for a bite to eat as well he took it gingerly. “I’ll be on the candles and lighting later but for now, you’re wanting a drink, right?”

He nodded. “I mean, from whoever’s serving is cool by me. I came with my wallet and all.”

To his surprise Tatsuya laughed. “Who said you get freebies off-shift? While Hiro’s doing a round of potwash that’d be me serving.”

“You’re—that’s, that’s cool. Um, I’ll sit wherever, yeah?” He ventured, already heading to the table Tatsuya had previously been minding that already had a chair pulled out.

“ _Sure_. I’ll be a sec.”

Unusual as it seemed, the English thrown in actually gave Kagami a second of calm, like a rock in a rushing river and let him settle in his seat with a touch less nerves than when he’d first entered.

It did the same for Tatsuya, it took the edge off any of that polite language he’d flung at his guest that was normally reserved for non-regular customers.

He’d had a busy afternoon already, with various things thrown at him mainly in the form of on-shift chef tantrums, outside-of-work chef tantrums and demanding customers before his shift had even started so it was a relief to have an anchor in the form of something—somebody unrelated to the business. He wasn’t about to confess that he had only now gotten things under control when Taiga had come in for a break from the stress that he imagined was routine in the life of a firefighter.

After a sip of water and a reassessment of the floor – customers leaving in a staggered rhythm across the shop, receipts already collected in his apron pocket – Tatsuya felt assured enough to enjoy the rest of his time before the bar shift began.

Although, he hadn’t counted on Taiga picking Atsushi’s usual table, where the chef regularly sat after completing his morning shift and wanted to sit, to mope, to whine for lunch and have to be evicted lest he nap in the café itself. He figured it was close enough to the kitchen door for him to guard it like a protective pet. But it was just a table, a table that customers would be seated at once the lug left the premises, and that was probably fine – the big baby could stand to share once in a while. _Not with him_ , his gut nitpicked, but Tatsuya pushed it down. It’d be fine. They were all adults in public so it would have to be, he figured. He sidled over to the table, eyes flicking over the menu that Taiga was turning back and forth between his hands.

“I’ll recommend you something if you like.” He eventually suggested. Taiga bristled and seemed to hesitate. Indecisive, Tatsuya reckoned.

“Uh, I was gonna go for a coffee… please,” he added on hastily, then turned his body towards his server buddy, “And something else for sure, but if you got something you think’d be better…!”

That surprised him a little, and Tatsuya found himself reaching for the pencil he’d tucked behind his ear. He’d counted on the coffee, sure, but talking to Taiga he hadn’t really pinned him as a… well, a cake and café kind of guy. Then again he had no idea what he wanted to go for himself – each time it’d been a drink they offered on the house. That kind of development drove him back to formality.

“What’ll it be?”

“French toast, thanks.”

Tatsuya lifted his eyebrows – nothing too sugary after all, huh. But Taiga spoke again, filling the silence of his scribbling on the order notepad.

“What’d you recommend though? Of whatever’s from the menu right now. Afternoon menu…”

“…Ah, it’s not the same as what you’re ordering, it’s definitely not savoury. We do kinda specialise in the bakery aspect after all…” he smiled a little apologetically, but Taiga seemed to face him more fully, hands in his lap.

“I’ll get it as well, I came all this way… worked up an appetite! Or something.” Taiga seemed to be trying to convince both parties of this, and it felt—not strained, but definitely something to believe out of pity for him. _Oh well_ , Tatsuya thought, _not my wallet_.

“Cake of the day is chestnut millefeuille, Thursday special.” He saw a fleet of emotions cross Taiga’s face. “Too sweet, right?”

Before his newfound regular could respond either way the kitchen door behind them bumped forward and was wedged open by someone’s foot, a nasal voice attempting to be louder than the din of potwash behind it.

“All out today. Hiro-chin uselessly sold the last one.”

Tatsuya glanced back to his guest, who still had his eyes on where the voice had come from, and gave a small shrug as the door swung back to muffle a _‘Yeesh! You’re welcome!’_ and further grumbling beyond the sound of a rushing tap.

“Sorry – should’ve checked.”

“No, no worries.” Taiga proffered.

“I’ll put this through for you.”

And like that Tatsuya excused himself before Taiga could break into another sweat about the fact that he didn’t know what a millefeuille was, let alone the concept of pronouncing it. He suddenly felt very aware of being a big guy in a cutely-decorated place, an establishment really far too homey for someone like him, he felt. At least as long as the place didn’t have a real meal menu. He knew Tatsuya had yet to bar-ify the place from the daytime service yet the thought of him blessing each table with a candle-jar for mood as soon as the hour turned didn’t give him any comfort.

After what felt like an eternity of glancing at Tatsuya going about his business rearranging chairs and collecting menus, Taiga eventually checked his watch. About two minutes had passed in the time it took for him to forget he’d ordered anything in his anxiety. _This is way more adrenaline than I signed up for_ , he thought, comparing it to the exhausted sweat he’d broken at the court scuffle the night before. And he couldn’t even limp off home at this point without Kaede or some other poor server stood holding his coffee and wondering where he’d escaped to…

Scent is strong in memory. He thought about that again with a throwback to that first smooth cup Kaede had poured him. A soft brush of sweater sleeve against his forearm yanked him back to reality, with a more powerful coffee aroma than he’d believed was physically possible when reminiscing.

Tatsuya sat the coffee-cup in front of him, careful to avoid Taiga’s twitch in his seat. As if he’d caught him napping he smiled to himself. “Need the caffeine?”

“Just, didn’t hear you there,” he caught his breath – as if he needed any more Kuroko-like scares today, “thanks for the, uh, thanks, Tatsuya.”

“Sure. Take it easy, alright?” was all he coolly bid him before disappearing behind the kitchen doors out of Taiga’s line of vision; he’d craned his head around to watch him go, only to see the door swing back and feel another presence join him at the table on his other side, almost right behind him.

As though he were being watched; as though there was no such thing as sitting alone in this café.

Sitting back firmly in his seat he looked across and up at his new neighbour who was slinging a jacket on the back of the chair a seat away from his. Just from the extremely dense aura around this guy, Taiga thought he should have recognised him, but nonetheless it took him a second to plough past the quiet aggravation before he got to names, faces, manners—

“That’s my seat, you know.” The chef drawled as he pulled out the chair and sat carefully, not meeting Taiga’s eyes or acknowledging him in any way for enough time that he almost doubted being spoken to. Wait- his seat? Wasn’t this just a normal customer’s table? Taiga frowned and opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by a massive sigh. Its owner was busy unpacking his bag for a bottle of water, a book. He spotted the chef’s jacket bundled up inside in a roll of clean cotton, startlingly light compared to the guy’s own pink and blue shirt-jeans combo.

“You can leave now, Mister Firefighter, I know our next check’s not for like… months yet.” Murasakibara finally looked at him, features strangely clear for a moment until Taiga realised he hadn’t seen the man without his signature chef’s hat since the first visit.

“Well—sure it ain’t, but I’m here on my own time.” He hesitated, but Murasakibara’s glassy eyes didn’t change. The man seemed to look straight through him and Taiga wondered for a moment if he had genuinely imagined their interchange, until the unwelcome companion let out a low, almost thoughtful hum. Like he was taking his time unpicking a story.

“Sounds unlikely.”

Taiga suppressed an argumentative tone; just because they’d butt heads before didn’t mean he couldn’t try to be polite outside of work. Maybe that would help things in work duties too? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Murasakibara sniffed, eyes flicking down to the table setup judgmentally. “Muro-chin treated you. Free drinks on the job.”

“I’m a paying customer, thanks!” Self-conscious, Taiga drew his coffee closer to him by the edge of the saucer. It didn’t seem to do much to reassure the other guy, who looked down his nose at Taiga’s moving hand as though it had something nasty caked on it. And it wasn’t exactly hard for him to look down on him like that, either – even as he seemed to slump in his chair, Taiga had to lean back to take in his tall frame properly. He felt like he couldn’t take a sip of the coffee now that he had it in hand with this damn guardian totem watching him.

Murasakibara began to push his chair back and stand up, a slow but meaningful movement that made the table judder. His voice was low, words deliberate.

_“You can’t be here.”_

That phrase held more gravity per syllable than the timbre of his tone did, and those glassy eyes instantly snapped to a ruthless, stony stare. Taiga’s breath caught in his throat. The silence seemed to span for minutes; as though moving beneath Murasakibara’s gaze would snap some kind of tension and he’d swipe out for him like the immobile curse figure in a horror movie, Taiga felt—not paralyzed, but like moving would be a bad idea. Framing it as a silent protest, his hand stayed perfectly still on the cup.

“Huh?” he managed, totally lost, and Murasakibara’s face soured. No answer came though as a little sway in his stance gave away Tatsuya suddenly popping out behind him with an expression of pure friendliness that was surreal, an oasis of normality in the abnormally threatening atmosphere Taiga suddenly realised had been created in that instant.

“Atsushi – he’s not here for any checks, you can relax,” He wore his usual customer service smile and seemed to pat the chef into place, Murasakibara’s expression melting away to passive sleepiness under the encouragement to sit back down. Taiga noticed with a quickening heartbeat that Tatsuya’s hand was dragging across the chef’s back before settling up on his shoulder again, looking up at Taiga. “He’s not giving you any trouble, is he?”

“Uh, well, _I’m_ not bothered, but…” Taiga took the opportunity to finally grab a sip of coffee, trying to forget what he’d just seen.

Tatsuya didn’t say anything (but Taiga could nearly hear that patient smile), only carefully placed a mug on the table by Murasakibara’s pile of stuff. He mumbled something and looped a couple of fingers around the handle.

“Actually”, Tatsuya spoke again, pulling out a chair for himself on his coworker’s other side, “have you two met? Wait, of course you’ve met – I mean if you’ve been introduced properly.” Both men gawked at him slightly but he didn’t wait before gesturing to each of them in turn, “Taiga, this is Atsushi Murasakibara – he’s our pastry chef. You could say Rhumbaba is kind of his showcase. And Atsushi, this is Taiga Kagami – you know he’s meant to come in and do the fire checks but he’s enjoyed our coffee a couple times now.”

Neither of the two reacted physically for a moment. What a weird introduction. Tatsuya laughed gently in the silence. “Okay, if you want an ice-breaker – Atsushi’s a creative director of… well, cake… and Atsushi, you know, it turns out Taiga and I both lived in L.A. for a while. Small world!”

The detail made it worse and strained the air with the obligation to socialise with one another, so soon after Murasakibara’s freaky statement; Taiga went to offer, “Just ‘Kagami’ is fine—”

“Muro-chin, he’s probably lying and trying to get us in trouble with our guard down. Someone like him.” Murasakibara spoke over him with no hesitation, and little resistance purely from the depth of his voice. That, that pushed it and Taiga couldn’t keep from twisting his face into a confused frown, leaning over his place at the table.

“’Like me’? What’ve you got against us, man? We’ve only visited to make sure that you—and everybody in the Way is safe!” He kept his voice civil but it did nothing for Murasakibara who only ignored him and buried himself in a big sip from his mug, something milky whose sickly scent made Taiga’s nose wrinkle in the sharpness of the situation.

“You know, just because you have a badge that lets you into backrooms doesn’t mean you can make people run around for you.” He mumbled and shot a glare back at Taiga’s coffee-cup again.

“Is this about—oh, give me a break. I came as a customer today.”

“That’s right, Atsushi, he just turned up at a funny time. It’s not a problem.” Tatsuya’s tone was reassuring, but Taiga realised through his rapidly-growing frustration that the smile had vanished. Somehow he no longer felt like this was a fire he’d be able to put out, and swallowed the agreement he was going to add. It seemed unnecessary anyway as Murasakibara reached up a hand to tug at the hairband of his ponytail.

“Hiro-chin should be serving at this time, so Muro-chin shouldn’t be making orders.”

“Hiro’s already got his hands full and you know that.”

Murasakibara rolled his eyes as the hairband was dragged out slowly, hair loosened and fanning over one shoulder. “I’m busy on the line. Hiro-chin was giving me tickets.”

“Hours ago before I came to make you actually do those tickets. Look – play nice, or you’ll be the one getting us in trouble.”

“Well, it’s not like I can write you up on anything anyway,” Taiga confessed, and broke into a cold sweat the instant Tatsuya’s grey gaze flicked to him, “and we’re all kinda here on our free time…”

“Right,” Tatsuya agreed in a flash, “and we shouldn’t be passing on staff headaches to the customers.”

The implication of that phrase made Taiga’s stomach somersault; he glanced down at the clean bottom of his cup that he’d managed to empty through nervous sips. _Employee drama_ , he remembered mentioning. Without realising the conversation had become sticky and hard to escape – with such animosity coming from Murasakibara there was no way he could contribute at this point that wouldn’t sound like he was being argued against. Keeping the peace was a task and a half and in that moment, Taiga had never felt less suited to his role. That messed-up argument on the court from the night before stung his mind again guiltily.

That dig of Hide’s about his obsessed-cop mentality stung him again. Troubled cop or good citizen, some fire inside Taiga wanted to just yell at the big lug between him and Tatsuya to let them—let him take it easy for once, and something else well-behaved and unknown was keeping his stupid mouth shut.

“So annoying, Muro-chin. I don’t want him here and that’s that.” Murasakibara grumbled and Taiga was angled too sideways to notice the full strength of Tatsuya’s sharp glare beneath his fringe. _Luckily_ , he thought, heart pounding from some instinctive sense of danger that told him to look away.

“You can’t _ban_ someone from the fire department from our building.”

“Why not? He’s causing trouble.”

“He isn’t, Atsushi, don’t be silly.”

“He _is_ though, and he can’t come in.”

“You’re not the shift leader—”

“Muro-chin isn’t, either.”

“I, uh, gotta take a call,” Taiga stood up sweating liberally from the lie, phone in hand, but Tatsuya gestured at him with his gaze still firmly on his neighbour—cupped his hand and gestured for the phone, he realised after half a second, and wordlessly gave it to him. The movement seemed to remind Murasakibara suddenly that their guest existed, like a mosquito flying too near. He sparked into life again and the drawl disappeared from his voice.

“Oi, Muro-chin—"

“Actually I’m lucky enough to be shift leader with a ten-hour shift tonight, and I’m giving Taiga the shop number, so the fire department can call us ahead of visits.” Tatsuya’s tone was flippant as he tapped in a few numbers and handed the phone back to a dumbstruck Taiga, screen locked again. “So you can prepare everything you need and you don’t have to worry about being snuck up on. That should be fair, right?”

Murasakibara was silent, glare solely on Taiga. For the second time that afternoon he swore those damned violet eyes were trying to bore through him and reach something behind him – willing him away like a curse on the building, he wondered.

Although, he looked more anxious this time, and there was a real hesitation in the man’s posture before he jolted to stand up again. Tatsuya’s hand was on his forearm in an instant with another gentle reprimand, “Atsushi.”

The tone, the motion, became too much for Taiga and with another pang of guilt direct from Kuroko’s voice to the pit of his stomach, he gripped his phone tightly and set down a couple of thousand-yen notes from his back pocket before stepping aside from the table. “Look—I’d better show myself out, don’t want to be in you guys’ bad books or anything.”

It softened Murasakibara’s eyes by a degree but Tatsuya stiffened, mouth open.

“Your order—”

The walls of Rhumbaba felt like they were closing in on him; Taiga’s pace quickened and he found himself calling to the employees from across the café, “It’s okay, uh, thanks for the coffee – see you ‘round!”

He gave the panel door a tug to close on his way out, forgetting it was jammed, but left it and hurried on out of the Way even faster, away from the claustrophobia, further away from the weirdness surrounding Murasakibara, Tatsuya’s soft yet fierce aura, the bizarre conversation and those eyes, those fucking violet eyes.

A curse that was following him. As if he could outrun the feeling, he was jogging before he knew it, weird as it looked in day-off denim, and only gaining speed. A full-on sprint would have been in his future if he didn’t catch himself running around corners in the district of Nippori and nearly giving an afternoon shopper a heart attack as he burst out around a corner.

It took three flights of station stairs up and down to the train carriage for him to feel like he’d burnt off even some of the nervous energy, and even then on the way home with a white-knuckled hand gripping the overhead supports his foot tapped incessantly.

Too many breaks in routine – he didn’t think of himself as a guy who needed a schedule and a guideline for every moment of his day (hell, he was bad about his own work rota at times) but something was off, so coincidental with every move he’d made in the last twenty-four hours that just thinking about all the different people who seemed to hate his guts or pity him for no reason made him thrum with anxiety. It felt like swimming in a pool with no bottom – of course there are no sharks down there but with no lights to show what’s down there, his mind was playing tricks on him. _There’s no such thing as a curse_ , he told himself as he fumbled trying to find his home keys in his pockets, _but I must have pissed somebody off out there._ Maybe it was secretly Hide’s revenge or a sick prank, he thought and snuffed out a sour laugh, looking at the contents of his pockets he’d drawn into his hands to find the door key.

His phone. Tatsuya had given him the work number, he said. Well, had said to Murasakibara, anyway.

The thought of that sickening moment was unpleasant but he experimentally punched in his unlock number and checked contacts. There was definitely a new number, sat at the top of the list since the name was left blank.

Well, something to pass on to the guys tomorrow, whether it was actually of any use or not. He didn’t have any energy left to think about what he would do with a direct line that led either to heaven or hell, the chill Tatsuya with real people skills or a purple ogre.

Even caffeinated his night was calm, and dinner heavy. First thing he’d do tomorrow would be to grovel to Hide and beg for him to lift the curse if he was ever going to invite him out for drinks the next day, he decided.

He slept dreaming of thunderstorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AGAIN it's nanowrimo 2017 and i'm picking this up again, fingers fucking crossed for some closure this year


	7. Chapter 7

Thankfully the storm had blown over by the next shift, and Hide’s memories of that bar had been mainly of a unique drinking game conceived at 3am that centred around paper chopstick-wrappers and the services’ utility belts. Talk of the night was neatly swept under the rug and the chatty team would fall silent if Chief Harada so much as frowned in their direction since Hide had, regrettably, lost more than one piece of taxpayer-funded uniform on that night. Kagami was simply relieved to be given a backlog of paperwork – all the forms needed brainpower that would have otherwise been spent overthinking anything and everything.

Mid-week it was a car accident that had what they called the ‘baby team’ together again – Kagami, Hide, and Kurosawa overseen by deputy chief Tanaka were flung into the scene. Although there were no critical injuries, it was a nasty crash that left the motorbike practically welded into the passenger side of the car, and two young victims trapped inside the miserably buckled door. One of them stared blankly in shock through the cracked glass at the firefighters’ powerful shears biting into the metal, the men sweating behind their masks and gear; the other screamed her 5-year-old fear and panic to such a pitch that all of their hearts ached to free them sooner if only to spare her the sound of the groaning metal as they cut it away.

Every bump of the truck on the ride back to base seemed to hit one of Kagami’s bruises, sustained from prising her from the gnarled wreck of the car and being pummelled with tiny yet stone-like fists in her tantrum. He sighed, a ghost of a breath that felt like he had ash lining his lungs.

“Puts it into perspective, huh,” Kurosawa leaned back beside him, looking upwards despite the truck’s grey ceiling separating them from the clear sky above. Kagami grunted, voice stuck in his throat tarred with gasoline fumes of the shears’ engine. 

“Paperwork, checks, you know. I guess the ‘boring’ stuff you’ve been assigned.” He continued. None of the other guys seemed particularly conversational after that scene but Tanaka, ever talkative, shrugged.

“Say, though, it’s pretty frightening to hear a security guard talk about wanting ‘real action’, isn’t it? Or a paramedic who loves watching those ambulance-cam shows?”

“Yikes, I don’t wanna know what you did in the club to have a bouncer say that to you, deputy chief Tanaka.” Hide grimaced from his seat across from their squad leader. Tanaka gave a false-innocent whistle and a laugh when the move didn’t draw any punchlines.

“I’m not saying, ‘hey guys, be grateful lives aren’t in your very hands every day’, or ‘paperwork isn’t important’! Now Chief might have a thing or two to say about that, I’ll admit. Right now I’m just thinking that after we get back and you all get back into your civvies, all of you take it easy.” He whipped up his head at Hide’s momentary relaxed slump, “After you fill out as much detail as you can and clean up. Don’t be messy.”

They all mumbled out their acknowledgements and let the lesson sit with them at base, even after the grime and gas was washed off. Despite feeling like he’d gotten a full-body stretch on the day’s job Kagami felt his back getting sore and his eyes going square from the endless forms.

Nadeko at the documentary administrative desk nodded gingerly when he handed her his completed stack of files. “Good job today, Kagami-kun.”

He made some guttural noise of exhaustion but quickly turned it into the sound of clearing his throat upon seeing her pained expression. “Yeah. Um, you wanna check over if…” He gestured with his cramping writing hand to the papers she was thumbing through, but she shook her head.

“Don’t you fuss now – I’ll let you know tomorrow if there’s anything to re-do. We’ll cross-reference between all the others after all to fill in any gaps.”

“Only if you’re sure.” To that, Nadeko gave him a sad smile.

“How much do you like paperwork, Kagami-kun?”

“Huh?”

The question took him off-guard; it felt purely conversational, although another voice in his head reminded him she was also part of the disciplinary committee. Taking meeting minutes, granted, but nonetheless the pressure was on. He coughed and glanced at the schedule on the wall’s noticeboard despite himself.

“Ain’t my hobby but it’s part of the job.”

“I suppose so.” Nadeko smiled.

“It’s like how, at my high school,” Kagami found himself speaking as though this fact was directly connecting to his mouth without asking his brain for permission, “They were strict on the study-play balance so a couple times, I had to study for good grades and take tests or they would kick me from the basketball team for being dumb.”

He felt embarrassed for divulging that fact as suddenly as he had, as well as how out of the blue it felt – he hardly remembered it himself in the clarity that seemed to come out of his mouth – but the flush died from his face as Nadeko made an impressed sound.

“You were on the basketball team? That’s amazing, Kagami-kun,” she giggled, and the sound was soothing. “You must have won plenty of matches, being so tall.”

“Yeah, kinda.” He admitted, right back to square one of bashfulness. Then he had another brainwave. He fished out his phone under the sounds of Nadeko preparing her document ink-stamps.

“Nadeko-san, do we keep track of all the places we do fire safety checks on?”

“Hmm?” she glanced up, then aside at her computer monitor. “We do – is there something you need to look up?”

“Actually, one of the places me and Hide kitted out in Nippori wanted us to… to call them in advance of visits, I think. I have a number for them. Marigold Way.”

Nadeko found the data entry and Kagami read out the unnamed number in his contacts, leaning on the counter behind the monitor. After a moment and a few keyboard clacks, she made a quiet noise.

“Kagami-kun, this is a mobile phone number. Did the staff give it to you?”

He blinked, uncertain. “Yeah—one of the shift leaders.”

Nadeko shook her head sadly. “We can’t keep this number, it’s an individual’s personal data rather than belonging to the business that we’re securing – you know how these things are. We can probably find the landline from business listings if we need it. Thank you for showing me, though!”

“Sure – well, uh, if you can’t read the papers this evening, put them in my locker or something?”

“They won’t all fit under the door,” Nadeko laughed, and waved him off.

Kagami left the building at a strange pace with a head full of fuzz. Not even questions, his tired mind hadn’t gotten that far yet – just a lot of hunches that weighed his stomach down like rocks and sank into his bones. He’d gotten as far as a Maji Burger stop halfway home, and sat in the car turning his third takeout burger over and over in his lap, one-handedly trying to unwrap it. With the other hand he scrolled and swiped through his phone for the number – he’d stared at it for so long over bites of bread and beef that it didn’t look like a real format anymore. Google searches gave him nothing but scrambled duplicates of the same ‘who phoned from this number’ webpage, either.

His hunch didn’t seem like it’d be true, but at every turn his mind dragged in the image of Tatsuya, head down, tapping in the digits with those deft fingers. Surely not.

It wasn’t as though he could just message it without a connected text function either. He hesitated over it for the course of another burger, then when he was topped up on cola, bit the bullet and hit ‘call’.

If the sheer tension prickling his scalp as the ringing tone went on in peals wouldn’t kill him, he was sure he’d burst an artery somewhere when it was cut off by the call being picked up. The breath he held felt icy cold in his chest.

Then, came the tentative: “Hello?” It was a male voice, over the slightest background sound of unnamed bustle.

_…Oh shit, man, talk!_

“H- Hey. I have this number in my phone…”

 _Pathetic,_ he thought _, I’ve really done it now._ His to-the-point and clean-cut civilian speak had been used up for the day in trying to get crowds back and calm down the witnesses of earlier’s accident; all that was left was babbling.

“Ah, is that Taiga?”

He’d never felt so happy to feel like he’d eaten a bucket of fire-ants. “Yeah- hey, Tatsuya. I figured it was you.”

A laugh broke out over the audio, and Taiga may as well have started on seconds. “I thought you’d be calling months from now for a visit.”

“O-oh—damn, my bad, listen, that’ll be my boss arranging it and besides—”

But Tatsuya’s laugh filled his ear again; and he caught himself loosening up, breathing normally again at the sound so close to him alone in the car. No being stuck between the social presentation and the dumb noises his idiot mouth wanted to make and pretend was real conversation. “That’s not what I meant at all, relax.”

Taiga swallowed. “Well, I don’t wanna presume after the other day.”

“It’s fine. Anyway, it’s quiet here right now, I have time.”

“Mm.” Taiga looked out over the restaurant parking-lot, misleadingly empty next to the Maji Burger stuffed full of highschoolers at this hour. He thought of the bar with all its classic furnishings and the glasses hung up like rows of jingle bells at Christmas. “Same here.”

“I reckon people feel like they can’t drink in daylight, you know.”

“Daylight, huh.” It was still May and evenings were still dark, but then Marigold Way functioned in its own reality bubble when it came to lighting and heating. Tatsuya’s line made a brief sweeping sound, as though muffling his phone with fabric.

“Really though,” he was saying through the noise which stopped suddenly with the click of what Taiga realised was the bar’s soda gun, “When it gets to August we’ll be getting a day’s profit between 9 and 11 at night. Til then it’ll be me and the coasters for company.”

Taiga made a hum of agreement, plucking at the corner of a burger’s paper wrapper.

“Enough about work though. You’re probably needing a break from all that talk. What’s up, anyway, Taiga?” Tatsuya’s direct question made him freeze in place, which caused a loud rustle of paper. He continued, “To be frank, I’m dying to know what another L.A. guy gets up to in Tokyo, what had you back in Japan. There’s gotta be a draw for you here and it can’t be the food.”

Taiga felt himself break into a sweat as he mentally grasped for straws of conversation topics. He liked it here, he guessed? Good roads? Or he could tell the truth – that he just went to school here and went from his dad’s flat to a decent job to a decent flat of his own and he never really grew out of cooking for one plus a month’s leftovers? All mental searches returned nothing and he, out of nerves and a sheer moment of incredulity, laughed.

When he heard himself he realised his own voice sounded _natural_.

“Sorry if you wanted a good answer,” he finally hazarded as he unwrapped his second-to-last meal, “But right now for what I’m up to, I’m just… eatin’ burgers.”

Tatsuya snorted. “Do you deliver? Cake for dinner isn’t fun anymore.”

Taiga played along with the joke for the best part of an hour, chatting between spans of awkward silence or customers being served as the sky darkened. Before they knew it both of their phones were crying out for charging, warning beeps lost under soft laughter.

They snatched a quick goodbye, and Taiga sat in the silent pitch-black of his car for a few moments before his fluttering heart felt settled enough for a steady drive home.

\--

 

Hours later Tatsuya found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place, or if there was a softer and more tempting equivalent that didn’t imply he was going to get crushed to death in a bloody way.

Atsushi barred the back door to Rhumbaba, without realising it, Tatsuya imagined. He reminded him of one of those terribly tired-looking _nurikabe_ wall demons; built to fit the space exactly, and not too pleased about the fact, either.

“Atsushi,” he tried again, the umpteenth time that night, “I really can’t drop you off home, and there’s just too much left to do.” He made a point of marking off various spot-checks on the daily task manager taped to the wall as his coworker huffed.

“Leave that stuff alone, I’ll tick it in the morning. I’ll tell boss it was all OK.”

Tatsuya strained a little, crouching in the back room to doublecheck the safe. After the best part of a year spent calling Atsushi his coworker he’d noticed endless qualities about him that he was sure were all warning signs to an employer; tendency towards laziness, winging his duties, skipping all the formalities (“Cake isn’t _healthy_ so why do I have to do all the Health and Safety forms and not the supplier?”, he’d heard him argue with the owner on one occasion), and, most of all, impatience. Or perhaps, intolerance of others’ demands – he seemed perfectly fine to have everybody else work on his sloth-like tempo, as though he was a force of nature, a sweeping tide whose ebb and rise depended on bizarre factors like whether he had an elastic hairband for his ponytail or how runny raspberry gelée was in the summer.

Sadly, for as well as Tatsuya could communicate with the guy and point him in the right motivational directions, at times he felt himself fall into that soft pace alongside him, and he knew he probably pandered to him more than he ought to accommodate a coworker’s unreasonable demands on-shift.

A coworker alone would be fine to deal with. But he liked him, had done for months, and when his imagination and heart were aching _yes_ to whatever endeared him to Atsushi, it was hard to put his foot down and say _no_.

“I can’t just skip these things. Look, it’ll take me a while, why don’t you head home? It must be chilly out.”

“So hurry up before I catch a cold waiting, Muro-chin.”

“That’s unfair. I don’t keep you around after _your_ shift ends.”

Atsushi mumbled something, mouth buried into the fabric of his hoodie, and Tatsuya took the chance to pretend he didn’t want to know, rearranging papers and aprons in the office to look marginally nicer for the morning crew than it might have been otherwise. His motions were measured – any less care and the drinks he’d, well, _sampled_ would show themselves in his behaviour.

He’d been in a good enough mood after the surprise phone call that he’d taken to experimenting with the menu, and even had a laugh with a regular or two. It was fun. Like he was expecting, he supposed – but fun as a grown-up could take its toll on the senses far too soon and he had to think not just about the amount of water he’d have to drink later but the tasks he’d have to complete tomorrow that weren’t done tonight—

“Muro- _chiiiiin_.”

Atsushi’s voice became not just audible but petulant. It wasn’t loud but the thought of the surrounding neighbours whose homes were by their back entrance gave Tatsuya a mental nudge and he sighed, slipping his coat on and heading towards the door where Atsushi waited. The man’s eyes looked tired, from the purple he could see peeking under those heavy lids.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go.” Tatsuya gestured for them to get a move on and locked up behind them once his companion had shuffled outside into the back alley. The sky was nearly clear above them, a few stars even daring to peek out through fuzzy wisps of cloud. He put the keys away and looked aside at Atsushi’s face dimly visible in the suggestion of streetlamps around the corner.

“You ready?”

“Mm.”

They started to walk side by side towards the main street, where their paths would normally divide to their respective neighbourhoods. There was plenty of time to kill before then, which seemed great for Atsushi, but Tatsuya already felt like the minutes were stretching out to infinity before him. Even his hands felt weightless, and lifting one to root around in his jacket was lightning-fast in his tipsy perception.

“Muro-chin.”

“Yeah?”

“You were really busy today, huh.”

Tatsuya’s fingers closed around the packet in his pocket, hesitantly at first, then he drew out a cigarette. “Sort of. Lots of chatty ones tonight.” It took a couple of flicks to light up and the glow rivalled that of Nishi-Nippori’s poorly-powered streetlamps. The first draw settled him; it was always more soothing than finishing the whole thing. He felt Atsushi’s eyes on him, and turned to return the gaze.

“Sorry that I can’t drop you off home tonight.”

Atsushi’s eyebrows lifted marginally in some form of acknowledgement of understanding, although he still shook his head. “It’s okay.” Atsushi was good like that, Tatsuya thought; few words, because he didn’t need them. Although his body language needed a lifetime of intuition and examination to parse.

“I’ll leave the car here tonight so you’ll definitely get a ride home tomorrow, alright?” he offered before taking another drag. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Atsushi burrow his chin further into his hoodie.

“It’s a deal.”

“Haha, thanks for obliging me.”

“…What’s that mean?”

Tatsuya let the smile wear off bit by bit, more an effort of relaxing muscles than forcing himself to sober up. Maybe his manner was a bit too jarring for his companion – here he’d thought he’d grasped that this was one of those nights where the drinks weren’t just for customers. “Nothing, nothing.”

After a moment, Atsushi slowly declared: “Muro-chin’s in a good mood.”

“Am I?” He grinned, catching himself before the cigarette nearly dropped from his lips. It wasn’t a good answer though, as Atsushi’s pace slowed bare metres from the crossing near their departure point. Most nights without Tatsuya’s car they’d pause there and talk, and laugh, and exchange goodbyes before going their separate ways, a liminal point that didn’t seem to exist in the daytime; but something felt off, with the signature streetlamp they always parted at in sight further away as they gradually stopped.

“Hey—Atsushi, we gotta get you home. Let’s not stop here.” He pressed, quickly sensing that something was amiss. Atsushi didn’t respond. I’ll bite, he thought. “What’s wrong?”

He spotted movement on his coworker’s face – blinking, looking down at his feet— and (the waste of it be damned) stubbed out the cigarette under a heel as he turned to face him. Very delicately, or at least as delicate as Tatsuya had ever heard him sound, Atsushi murmured.

“I want to protect it.”

“Pr—” Tatsuya’s brain stumbled over the concept and his heart plunged, head craning to hear his soft voice better. As though such tender words could come out of this childish, stubborn, hard-to-please— but the more he questioned it the more he felt himself being taken in by the stupid, stupid longing he held for him. Desperate and confused, he forced himself to finish, “Protect what?”

“Muro-chin’s good mood.” Came the simple reply. Tatsuya felt his heart attempt to burst out of his chest for all the stress of the moment, the uncertainty Atsushi had carelessly thrust him into.

“O… Oh, is that it?” he tried to laugh out the nerves, but Atsushi wasn’t laughing, and stood staring blankly at an indistinct point on Tatsuya’s jacket, even as he craned to try and get a better look at his expression. Maybe he could convince himself it was a better idea to go somewhere to pick up beers, a convenience store—never mind the 5am start poor Atsushi has, he thought—

“All of the painful things—” Atsushi interrupted his train of thought, and noticeably only for the motion of unclenching his hands from the cold fists he’d held in his pockets, reaching out for his shorter coworker. He jerked his head up in attention, breath painfully seized in his chest; Atsushi placed a hand on Tatsuya’s arm, slid it down to his elbow, his forearm. Fingertips brushed the cuff of Tatsuya’s sleeve and pinched it loosely for security.

Despite the light chill of the early hours, Tatsuya’s bones were on fire. And for its ferocity, that voice was like velvet.

“I’ll crush them all. So you can keep smiling.”

The ash, the cold, the proximity of two bodies and his own anticipation rushed to his head and started to prickle at Tatsuya’s eyes, or so he imagined – in the moment he felt like he couldn’t see Atsushi properly, or maybe he didn’t want to look at him, and somehow, the best option seemed to be to lower his head and gently butt it against Atsushi. Looking down at their shoes almost toe-to-toe, his forehead only reached the man’s chest, hardly anywhere near his shoulders or even his heart. Figures he wouldn’t get close to it.

 _Stupid_ , Tatsuya thought, _I’m so stupid. To fall for someone who won’t say anything nicely._ His nose stung; probably the smoke, he told himself, it’d been a couple of weeks since the last stressful urge and this embarrassing reaction was how he was paying for it in such a crucial moment.

Atsushi felt warm through layers of knit and fleece. The rush of heat and the outside cold was like the flush before a sick faint. Tatsuya’s world was spinning.

“Muro-chin, let’s get going already.”

 _Even though you’re the one who stopped us to say that?_ “Of course, of course. I just feel a little ill.”

“Because you drank?”

“My just desserts then, right.”

“Sorry.”

Tatsuya hesitated, and stepped back before looking up at him, and straight aside again as the altitude hit him.

His world was spinning, but only around one focal point, right now.

“Maybe you should walk me home after all.”

 

\--

Heading in the next day, and the day after, and the stretch through to his next few weekends after that phone call felt like slipping back into routine even though Taiga knew it was the least typical his week had ever looked on the calendar. Even his downtime was more shaken-up than normal between erratic shift hours; sure, he’d spent many a high school morning exhausted to the core from a restless night worrying about an exam or a match outcome but after driving home that evening, he spent his nights running circles in his mind, muscles light and jelly-like as he half-dozed rather than falling asleep.

Maybe his body’s alarm clock was on a totally different setting, now. Rather than trying to figure out when to wedge in a workout on the way home he found himself thinking about opening hours and closing times. He would check his phone and find messages from two different senders, and Tatsuya never sent just the one message. Guy liked to chat, he figured. Pity then that just like with Kuroko, their schedules were wildly different and conversations never finished. How come he knew so many night owls and early birds, while he flew everywhere in between?

Routine stuck with the breakroom’s work calendar remaining pitifully empty, as always, other than goodbye drinks for another admin assistant that ended up cancelled over a surprise call-out. Hide wasted no effort making this known.

“And I know it’s because it’s unpredictable, but since that’s our thing every day of the week we can predict how unpredictable things are, do you know what I mean? At least we can make a backup plan on a day that’s less busy, or do something casual in the station or around here – no wasting effort on booking a place for a time, picking seats…”

Taiga sighed and passed down to him another hose reel. “If you go down that route we’ll have to have backup plans for backup plans, who cares enough to organise that?”

“I do!” Hide exclaimed, affronted, took the reel with the utmost care and flung it into the truck’s storage with the least. “I just don’t have time to do… you know… everyone’s things for them.”

“So everyone should do it?”

“It’s for everyone’s benefit, that’s what I’m saying!”

“You just want someone else to do the organising, man.” Taiga mumbled from up on his perch, on the fire-truck’s side ladder, unhooking more parts that needed safety checks signing off.

“Heard that!”

He wrinkled his nose. A tentative thought occurred to him.

“What’s wrong with going to the… you know, the big services drinks we went to that time?”

Hide’s face lit up, even through his careful scrutiny of the plastic tagging on security grips. “That’s what I mean, though – it’s fun but nobody else from here ever goes ‘cause it’s too out of the way from here, too rowdy, so we gotta do something closer and chilled-out. But it was awesome that you came last time. Heading over on the train later though, right?”

That implication tugged Taiga one way, and his stomach lurched the other, at the initial memory of last time’s events. He didn’t want to leave his buddy hanging though. “Yeah, sure.”

Hide whooped and punched the air right as Taiga tossed him another rope from the truck’s storage hook and yelped, the twine landing with a thump at his feet. It took another few moments of laughing versus grumbling for Taiga to overcome the initial sick feeling about the event to realise—

“Wait, later?”

“Yeah, uh, whoops?” He scribbled on a clipboard and kicked the rope aside. “I mentioned it last week but you were playing with your phone, I guess? Did you make plans already?”

“Nah, just…” It threw him but then, most sudden social commitments did. As ever, despite feeling busy, Taiga didn’t have much in way of solid plans other than making weekly lunches. He’d have to let Kuroko know and make sure that tonight, he wouldn’t worry him so much. “Let’s eat first this time.”

 _Drinking out tonight, not driving though so don’t worry_ , he messaged on the evening train, shoulder-to-shoulder with later workers on the commuter line.

Kuroko had replied almost instantaneously, _Have a good evening. Texting late is OK._

The ride there was worlds away from being stuck in the car in plodding inner-Tokyo traffic, better still for having two hands free each to dig into their takeaway dinners between the station and the bar (“Their yakitori skewers taste so good, but they’re so tiny, and _soooo_ —" Hide had confessed, gesturing to indicate a cost that simply wasn’t appropriate for public workers). Just walking along with his coworker was already a stress reliever – they caught up a little, exchanged news. His daughter had apparently already shown a range of emotions, and her favourite was crying.

If it was possible for that first outing he’d witnessed to have been bursting at the banks, this get-together was a flood. Interspersed amongst the service workers still in uniform were regulars, salarymen, students fooling around, sparks of grey suit and colourful fashions in a sea of navy and powder blue, the groups of civilians to workers split at a neat 50-50. Shinjuku at 8pm was a different world to the midnight world they’d woven their way into weeks ago. Ploughing through the throng behind Hide, Taiga wondered if it was just a matter of time, of the other folks peeling off weary from 6am commutes compared to the teams of firefighers, police officers, paramedics, shifts all staggered and with their partying energy conserved over the course of a stressful month.

They’d ordered their drinks, his round first, Taiga’s skills in shouting politely perfectly suited to the roar of laughter and chatter that filled the air for roads beyond the bar, but it took several rounds for them to even grab a seat as individuals left the benches in small waves. The glasses barely seemed to leave their hands before they’d return, filled to the brim and gesturing to one another to get the next round.

He’d finally wedged his frame between two strangers at a table he’d assumed were police from the powder-blue day uniforms, but the cap his neighbour was wearing was whipped off in a flash by Hide, laughing and passing it on down the table to Chiyoda district’s police squad; four beers in and he was still taking things for face value, really. _Loosen up_ , he told himself, and only grew less lively for the slap on the wrist.

Unlike last time he wasn’t anxious to blend in – the drinks took care of that, and it was slowly sinking in that a drunk Taiga was a serious Taiga, one ultra-conscious of the way that his stomach was coping with the alcohol and what people were trying to say to him, beginning to rely mostly on lip-reading to cope. The advantage was that he focused harder than ever to understand shouted introductions in the din of the bar.

Half-buried in his beer, he heard his name spoken, Hide gesturing energetic between him and a young paramedic at the end of the bench. Focus on that, then; he picked out the man enthusiastically repeating the names to memorise them, the syllables _Ka-ga-mi_ on his lips as he glanced towards him.

Taiga waved, and between attempting to wipe off his froth moustache and recall something long forgotten, he frowned fiercely. Slim-built, peppy and talkative it seemed, from the way he and Hide had already hit it off. The guy’s amber almond-shaped eyes widened in momentary hesitation once he spotted he was being scrutinised intensely, and Taiga hazarded a huge, massive guess across the table:

“Takao?”

It seemed to remind his neighbours that they had a huge, muscular firefighter sat between them and they perked up, a chain reaction that had Hide snorting with laughter at the general reaction and the paramedic— _Takao_ , he remembered, that had to be his name if it wasn’t confirmed already by how shocked he looked by the announcement – seconds from blushing as though picked out from a crowd.

“How come you--? I mean, hi! But…!” He replied, wavering a little after his cheery greeting, smile faltering in confusion. It didn’t matter to Taiga, whose face was stuck in the frown as he dug around in some mental tunnels to figure out the how and the when and the where.

“Don’t I know you from… high school, somehow?”

“Ahhh- hahaha, small world, huh?” Takao laughed at a nervous machine-gun-round rate to outdo Hide’s fits of giggles from where he had his forehead pressed on the sticky tabletop.

“No, come on,” Taiga pressed, pinching the bridge of his nose in deep thought, “I went to Seirin, tiny place, I would’ve recognised… Damn, I don’t get into trouble enough to know you from the hospital.” The more he tried to search for names and places the more lost he felt – the bottomless pool reappeared beneath his feet. But the man’s piercingly bright eyes and light movements were unforgettable, tied in with lots of other details that weren’t as clear-cut in his mind.

Was it just something about Tokyo, that brought him all of these old faces from god knows where in his past? A huge hub with a pull that even Tatsuya, who made trails in Akita and in L.A., felt a calling for?

“Right, Seirin, was it?” Takao broke his train of thought by laughing again—politely, yet manically, eyes searching for the exit from this oppressive atmosphere. Hide was resting on him heavily and his colleagues were leaning forward invested in this revelation. In his concentration Taiga was blocking out all of his subject’s struggle.

“We stayed in the same inn that time—”

“That’s-“ Instantly, Takao’s resistance softened his attempt to wedge his way out from between the other drinkers, and he stared across at Taiga, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth. “Huh? You remember that?”

“Yeah, you were, uh… singing real loud outside at night… coach got real mad about it.”

“Oof, that too?!”

Taiga nodded, and in that moment of clarity he studied the paramedic whose weird, one-off interaction he remembered; he hadn’t changed much from the wispy-haired, boisterously cheerful guy yelling in the bushes of a countryside ryōkan. He was just—stretched longer in adulthood, clothed in a serious-looking uniform and drinking without a partner to annoy by his side at present.

A partner whose only detail he remembered was that the two were as inseparable as he and Kuroko had been in high school. The thought gave him a stab of guilt – he hadn’t seen Kuroko in person in weeks, now. They used to practice together every day back then.

Before he could outrun his own flicker of regret with more digging but about that other guy, Takao leaned forward, and smiled warmly with just an ounce less apprehension than he’d initially showed.

“How’ve you been then, Kagami?”

The question was like a loud breath snatched in a confined space, and for all it refreshed him, he felt nailed to the spot. His shoulders were tense as rocks.

He didn’t want to think too hard about it and the rest of his fourth beer conjured an answer for him: “…Good. Meeting new people with this jerk here,” he pointed out Hide, who was turned around almost completely in his seat to pester the other fire squads behind him, “and old pals too, I guess. Seriously small world!”

Takao snickered. “Aw, that’s nice—” he seemed to check around the other tables, eyes ever searching in that restless manner of his, “—you should definitely bring your squad next time! They’re missing out on all the good times!”

“Yeah, we were only saying today—”

Taiga froze with his beer stein halfway to his mouth, the sensation of being watched prickling his neck. He shot a glance beyond where the benches ended, and saw a flash of blue, a uniformed man double-back on himself in a hurry and disappear down the side of the bar.

_Speak of the devil, old pals alright._

“Hold my beer.” Taiga thrust the glass into Takao’s hand and leapt out of his seat, taking off running and stumbling after the figure. Takao’s confused ‘Huh?’ and the rabble of the bar were left behind as he nearly sprinted down the alley, chatter and clinking drinks merging into the bustle of Shinjuku at night coupled with the uncertainty of his footfalls in the busy pavements and glow of restaurant lanterns. For all the chaos of the pedestrian-lined roads, he kept that navy-blue back in sight, bobbing between civilians and almost permanently too far away for Taiga to catch up to as though the alley never ended.

Aomine, that coward; he wasn’t banking on seeing Taiga again this time, was he? That was why he’d dipped in and legged it again after seeing he was there, he reasoned – weeks he’d spent telling himself that Kuroko was right and the guy was just some drunk asshole who was looking for an excuse to live out his high school fantasy of succeeding in life again by literally dunking on him, and if he saw him again, well – let high school lay where adolescent dramas were made, and they could play again, or just talk, or ignore one another, whatever the fuck was normal for what police officers did after four hours of drinking—

But here he was, chasing him down like his ass was on fire and only Aomine had a water bucket.

Maybe one defeat wasn’t enough and they were playing a sick game of hide and seek, where he’d have to chase him all the way to his home court in Shibuya again, Taiga reasoned as his lungs began to scrape oxygen into them instead of breathing it in freely, and turned a corner. Parked all too closely to the very edge of the curb was a sleek car, one with a certain uniformed officer leaning into the driver’s open window.

He couldn’t be on the job at this fucking time, so Taiga, eyes on the unmistakeable blue-sheen hair, lazy posture, Shibuya police badge, threw out a hand with all of his momentum to grab at the front of his uniform.

Aomine whipped around and grabbed his wrist, eyes wide and furious; Taiga kept going and the two staggered backwards into the empty road.

“What the _fuck_ are you—”

Revenge? Another match? Taiga didn’t know himself, why did people expect him to have any answers? “Aomine!”

“Yeah, what? Why are you here? You’re not meant to be—”

“Why are _you_ running from me? You beat me!”

It seemed to strike Aomine like a slap, and he wrenched Taiga’s wrist outwards and around as though to lock behind his back; Taiga forced back, reached out, met Aomine’s palm in a grip that was stupidly childish in its fumbling. Each of them surprised the other with his strength.

Half a second of struggle and Aomine let go of Taiga’s wrist, only to grab his shoulder and force his back against the car, something that he was clearly much better trained to do than Taiga knew how to escape; his spine whacked against the hard handle.

“Can’t—can’t you stay _down_? Don’t follow me! Hell, don’t even think about this! I don’t wanna see your face out there, I don’t wanna hear it—”

“Aominecchi—” Another, softer voice pierced his rant, and the door slam ricocheted through Taiga’s back like a shockwave, “—Kagamicchi?”

He dared to look aside at the driver nicknaming him, only snatching a glimpse of blonde before Aomine gripped his wrist with a crushing strength then backed off. Taiga hesitated against the vehicle for a moment, glaringly aware of how bad it looked for a firefighter to hassle an officer in public, and glanced between his aggressor and the driver for a moment. Aomine seemed fixed in an indecision between addressing the man and continuing to scream nonsense with added violence.

“Kagamicchi, it’s really you!” The blonde lifted his sunglasses (who wears sunglasses at night except for not-so-subtle celebrities, Taiga’s mind interjected, but as he revealed a sparklingly young face, he reversed quickly on that thought) and blinked at the two, approaching as though there hadn’t almost been a punch-up on his own car, but Aomine seemed to rear up, step towards him like a panther shielding its prey from scavengers.

“Stay out of this, Kise.”

“Too late to say that now, isn’t it?” He shrugged, and for the first time, properly looked at Taiga, who felt a need to stand up straight and back off for the vibe he was getting from this guy. Compared to rough-around-the-edges Aomine and himself, he was tidy, smiling almost despite himself – that created a unique air about him.

“Don’t—” Aomine sighed, and focused his attention on Taiga again, frown stormy. “Just—what are you here for? Tell me, and scram.”

Taiga’s mouth was dry, empty of all the words he’d filled his head with as his frustration came to a peak during the brief fight, and he stared back numbly. That tension he held earlier seemed to have evaporated out of him just in that exchange.

It left just a few, singular thoughts floating in his brain.

“I want answers, and I want a rematch.”

Aomine sneered. “Fuck off. You’re getting neither.”

“Tell me why you challenged me in the first place, then!”

Kise rolled his eyes, turning away as Aomine laughed, that disgustingly hollow, callous laugh. “Because I’m stupid. Happy?”

Taiga bristled; he didn’t have time for this self-deprecating, careless— but Kise interjected. “If it’s answers he wants…”

Aomine reeled as though electrocuted.

“ _No!_ Christ—” He dragged a hand back through his hair, clearly unable to believe this was happening. Eventually he groaned, “If a rematch will get you to leave me alone…”

Taiga nodded slowly. “I think it’ll help me understand. Understand _something_.”

That made Aomine and Kise look at one another silently, and in their unspoken agreement Taiga knew for certain there was something unknown that he had purposefully waded into, deeper than he imagined. Something bigger than himself.

He’d never been able to understand long words or process other people’s points of view easily; practical learning was his method, just doing it by hand. There were fewer things better suited to shoving information into his brain than physical effort. His palm stung pre-emptively from the smack of a basketball.

Aomine sagged. “Usual court, then.”

The words perked Kise into action, and soon the three were hesitantly bundled into the car that Taiga had been plastered to the outside of just minutes prior, making their silent way through Shinjuku backstreets to the usual haunt of his—of theirs, it seemed now. Taiga might have recognised the neighbourhoods on the way but didn’t feel at ease enough, in these wild strangers’ backseat, to take his eyes off of his hosts. Aomine’s eyes – tired, old-looking when there wasn’t anger lighting them up – caught his in the rear-view mirror for an instant, and he glared before leaning against the window.

“So… Kagamicchi,” Kise began as they smoothly turned off a main road, the first time any of them had spoken since getting in – but Taiga wasn’t sure if he was grateful that the serious silence had been broken.

“Why do you keep calling me that…?”

“Ahaha, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not the issue…” he grumbled, trying to figure out what Kise was up to, although it was difficult from behind, in the dark. Kise didn’t say anything for a moment; Taiga glimpsed a shy smile as a streetlight passed over the dashboard.

“It’s just a nickname, so I can pick you out from the crowd. Why, not a fan?”

Taiga opened his mouth to argue, but Aomine growled from his seat, “Tryin’ to make friends or something, we’re here to settle this and that’s it.” For a second, Kise looked back at Taiga side-on, and he locked golden eyes with him before he shrugged knowingly and set his gaze back on the road.

The streets became distantly familiar as he pulled in and parked, and Taiga recognised the chain-link fence with its buckled parts on a mottled court missing chunks of tarmac from his seat. None of them went to move once the engine was off.

Eventually Kise nudged Aomine, a movement that didn’t seem to inspire any energy in him. “You guys gonna play or what?”

“We need to talk alone.” Aomine replied gruffly, although he didn’t resist Kise leaning on him more heavily, winding fingers around his arm (and Taiga didn’t know where to look, for as much as he was hanging onto Aomine’s words – he stuck to staring out the window at the court).

“Huh? You and—? Just do that on the court, surely?”

“Then you stay here, Kise.”

“Noooo, what? I’ll be watching you play! You need a referee anyway.”

“You’ll meddle—”

“Wow, that scared I’ll skew the score?”

“I thought we were just gonna play,” Taiga said, voice wavering as Kise’s tone was escalating to a high-pitched accusation. “One-on-one.” Aomine turned around and narrowed his eyes at him wordlessly. But Kise seemed to have had enough of his partner’s over-the-top tension, opening the door and stepping out.

“Whatever, I’ll stick out here ‘til you’re done with your ‘one-on-one’, then.” Light shone across his empty seat for half a second before the slam. It registered in Taiga’s mind that he was about to be stuck in the same dark, confined space as Aomine who was only a violent mystery to him at this point – answers or no, his back still ached from the fumble in Shinjuku and he wasn’t entirely confident he would even tell him anything useful – so, quickly, he followed Kise out of the car, letting the door shut behind him.

Standing a few feet away on the edge of the court, Kise was waiting, a hand in his jacket pocket and the other balancing a basketball against his hip the same way Aomine had lazily done last time. Like he was trying to encourage the other man to shut up and come play already. Taiga liked that tactic, and hurried over, drawing his sleeves up to free his hands for the game.

“About time—” he started eagerly, but Kise wore a strange expression, and interrupted him by drawing his car keys and clicking the button. Behind him the car locks clicked audibly.

Taiga glanced back at Aomine, whose face seemed to be blank from confusion, trying the doors from the passenger side—to no avail. Moving across, the driver’s door did nothing either. He faced back at the two, looked up at Taiga from through the darkened glass who, guiltily, thought of a dog left behind.

“I’ll say.” Came Kise’s voice, carrying the same boyish tone but lacking any of the conversational tone he’d had as a foil to Aomine’s coarseness. Taiga found it difficult to face him again, disbelief punching the excitement for another streetball game clean out of his body. Backing up his thumping heart was the furious clicking of a door handle, muffled shouts.

“Huh…?”

In the streetlamp’s light, he finally saw Kise’s face clearly, for its open, honest features and winning smile. Eyes that he found sleek and glittering with energy earlier seemed darkened, now, and not from shadows.

“Sorry, but if Aominecchi is going to be dragging his feet playing you, I can hardly pass up this chance, can I? Forgive me later, okay?” He held up an apologetic hand as he nudged open the court door with his shoulder – as though mesmerised, Taiga followed despite his confusion. His hands clenched into defensive fists. If he had to choose between Aomine’s ruthless digs and this guy’s _people skills_ … Although, he had to question what kind of person would put a literal lock on his partner…

“But I’m… me and Aomine faced off once already, so we’re settling a score. Sorry for…” The mistake? Taiga wasn’t sure of anything but his perplexion right now. In that heated moment earlier he realised that playing basketball that first time had shoved his world under a strange new focus, one that gave him bumps and bruises to remember the next day and knock the breath out of him from just a few metres of tarmac to cover. It injected movement where he wasn’t sure he could reach. Certain movements where there might have been doubts, let alone thinking about doing something so active in the first place. He felt closer to grasping an answer, something that he could hardly explain to himself let alone somebody else – no matter how familiar they might have been with the situation.

Kise let the ball drop out of his hand to bounce once, and smiled. The thud reverberated across the empty court, punctuation to the increasing slams and thumps from the vehicle by the sidewalk.

“Thought you were playing to understand something? I _really_ wanna play you, so that works out fine if we go for a quick game.”

“Yeah, playing _Aomine_ though.”

“So it’s fine, right?”

“What?”

Kise flung the ball at him before he could blink, and the shock of the rubber on his palms was like cold water to his system. Lost, he gripped it for a moment then shot it straight back, aiming higher to make Kise reach for it and hopefully give him time to figure out his next move; but he appeared to scoop it out of the air effortlessly with hardly an arch of his toes and immediately hammered the ball downwards into a controlled dribble.

Taiga gawked. He was way out of this guy’s league. So why did both of them want to challenge him each time?

“You really don’t remember any of us, Kagamicchi. I never thought you’d want to forget your rivals.” Kise said over the regular thumps of the ball on rocky tarmac, and the way he said it so softly was the complete opposite to what Taiga was expecting to hear from somebody so competitive, with such an unpredictable edge to his words. He even seemed to be reluctant to let go of the ball on each bounce.

“What do you mean, ‘want to’—”

A crack made them both jump, then an ugly fracture, then a smash rang out behind them, and glass pieces fell skittering from the car across the pitch-black road like the powdering of snow in winter. Twisting to the source of the sound showed them Aomine, outside, who had his arm wrenched through the car window—a ragged hole in the glass, broken clean through by sheer force and most of it now decorating the tarmac.

“ _Kise_!” he roared across the court, fumbling with the door handle on the outside, and Kise only paled.

“My car-!”

Taiga looked on Aomine’s nasty struggle to escape the car with a kind of horror that made the beer churn in his stomach; the way he tumbled out with his head over heels, crunching glass pieces underfoot, was visceral, beastlike. He found himself poised to run the instant that sharp gaze found him again like the prey in a savannah chase, but when Aomine looked up, propping his body up with a glass-specked bloodied arm against the doorframe, his eyes pleaded.

“Get outta here.”

“But our—” Taiga tried, almost pathetically, but his legs felt tight and ready to dash from three-point to basket.

“ _Leave_!”

He didn’t need telling twice, and sprinted down and away from the court as fast as he could, leaving behind the mess of Kise’s shrill arguing and the jingle of a ball hitting chain-link in the darkness as he headed back the way they’d come over smooth neighbourhood pavement. Who in their right mind would argue with a guttural cry like that?

For all his dreadful faults, he knew now he could trust Aomine. Perhaps only comparatively to the other  He’d seen regret in those eyes, fleetingly yet solidly enough to understand that the command was for his own good, for once.

The itch to play that had stuck so fast in him ebbed gently as he ran further towards inner Tokyo, but didn’t leave him completely – it hung in his heels like an afterimage, chasing him all the way back to the bar, after a break in a public bathroom to empty his stomach. Takao’s careful hands guided him to Hide at the benches and, after many administered sips of water and lemonade, put them on the train home. Taiga blacked out to the sound of Hide’s drunken snuffle of a laugh, and stirred again to Nakayoshi from work gently shaking them awake on his way home after a late. Drinks, adrenaline, fear and fractured memories, shaken up like espresso martini made the worst cocktail ever.

\--

“Kuroko.”

Past midnight, but Kuroko realised that _after_ picking up, eyes refocusing on his clock display. His heart still pounded from the panic of his ringtone jerking him from sleep. “Yes, hello?”

“It’s Kagami, I’m home.”

“Oh—okay. Good.”

“I know you said to text but I’m too wasted to type words.” He said, as though reading Kuroko’s mind. Lucidly awake, Kuroko shook his head.

“It’s okay. Thanks for calling.”

He waited for Kagami to bid him a slurred goodnight but it never came. The silent moments stretched, tediously, into a minute. Broken out of deep sleep it wasn’t that he didn’t want to say anything, but that he didn’t have any conversation topics to offer for talk, his brain offline. Finally he heard a breath on the line, as though Kagami had dozed off, but it was an intake, a preparation.

“Say, Kuroko.”

“Yes…?”

“Did I… we… have lots of friends in high school?”

Kuroko’s heart stopped.

“Yes, good friends.”

“In Seirin, right?”

He swallowed, mouth dry. “Yes.”

Kagami was silent again, thoughtful – or hesitant, he wondered with a quickening heart rate. “Did everyone move away from Tokyo, I wonder…”

“No… everyone moved a little and travelled. But I think that our club members are all still here.”

“It’s just… people keep finding me, but they’re not Seirin. And they know my name, talking about basketball and stuff. How come I don’t know _them_?” Over the line, his voice cracked. “Kuroko, I know my memory’s bad for long words and numbers, sit-down tests, kanji, names, that kinda stuff, but did I break off that many people just—forgetting to hang out?”

Kuroko found himself sitting up in bed and fidgeting, panicking, stamping down all of the questions those admissions raised to make room for Kagami’s pain. Breaking everything with a few words versus letting his friend hurt. Decisions for those who blend into the background and hold up the stage sets.

“Kagami-kun…”

“I’d hate to do that to you. The thought of one day maybe I don’t message you, then we stop talking, and we stop hanging out, and I forget you were my friend.”

“I’d never let that happen,” he said firmly, “I’d always reach out to you, too.”

Kagami didn’t say anything for a while, the line disrupted by the occasional shuffling noise. It was enough time for Kuroko to calm down, to stop feeling sick and relax enough to lie under the sheets again.

“I’m sorry – your luck hasn’t been very good with these nights out.” Kuroko offered eventually, and Kagami sniffed, made a soft noise. “Nostalgia is normal when you’re tipsy, too, I believe.”

“Mmm.”

“When you’re awake—” _Sober too_ , Kuroko thought, “Let’s plan something.”

“Mm.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Kagami mumbled, almost begrudgingly. “Thanks, Kuroko.”

Glancing at the clock again, Kuroko let a breath leave him silently. “Anytime. Maybe you can talk to somebody else tonight as well to get this off your chest. Goodnight.”

With that seed of an idea planted in his mind Kagami stared at the ceiling for ages afterwards, holding his phone in his hand.

He finally called again on the verge of a lucid dream – a decision his fuzzy brain didn’t stop to be nervous about.

 _Click_. “Now, Taiga, you know we don’t take phone orders.” Tatsuya breathed down the line at last; he swallowed, mouth dry, and focused on the lampshade above in the darkness.

“Yeah.”

A soft laugh, and Taiga wondered, if he didn’t sound too rough, maybe he was nearly sober after all.

“So what’s up?”

The breath swelled in his chest.

 

“Come out with me tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yellin*
> 
> Kurostage IGNITE ZONE is being rehearsed for... Syuusuke and Taiyou came for me and the Atsushi inspiration is stronger than it's ever been in my tiny life... So I hope to do him justice in the coming chapters, because yikes


	8. Chapter 8

The morning air had a bite to it, a cold snap that threatened to drop the flowers right off all the trees. Kuroko had wrapped up in a woollen scarf that, try as it might, couldn’t have protected his nose from gaining that little pink soreness it did in this kind of weather, and waited outside the station.

Aomine didn’t keep him waiting long; his punctuality was one of the only things that had changed about him since high school. Spotting one another near the underground entrance they met, hesitant in greeting before Kuroko offered a gentle nod.

“Thanks for walking me, Aomine-kun.”

“Nn.” Aomine grunted blearily at Kuroko. He made eye contact and seemed to be shaken awake by those eyes, powder-blue as the clear spring sky above, and tried again. “Morning.”

“Good morning.”

Aomine was quick to drop his gaze, but Kuroko’s couldn’t help but linger before they fell slightly more in step, heading towards the main road that lead from the station plaza.

 _He looks tired,_ Kuroko remarked _._ Aomine always looked world-weary in the lines of his forehead, so an extra layer of exhaustion atop that was quite hard to achieve.

“You ate already?”

 _Talkative_ , Kuroko thought. “Yes, before I left. How about you?”

“Mm. Wouldn’t even get through the barriers without breakfast.”

“That’s true, isn’t it.”

“Mm.”

They fell into silence again as they walked, seeming to cleave a path through the early-morning crowds shuffling along the pavements – although, sleepily, Kuroko realised that could have been Aomine’s uniform, the navy collar peeking just beneath his puffer coat, or perhaps his air. His attitude? His height?

It wasn’t a long walk to the daycare centre, and he had to breach the subject sometime before setting up for work. Kuroko’s hands lifted to grip at his backpack straps in mental preparation with a physical grip on his courage.

But it was Aomine who spoke first, seeming to deflate as he hung his head and stared at the ground with each step.

“Listen… I know you and I both got long days ahead—” a side-glance betrayed eyebags, wrinkles where sleep hadn’t crept in, “But there’s more bullshit to fill you in on before I head to Shibuya.”

“Right?” The suddenness took him off-guard.

“Yeah. It’s not the worst, but it is bad. Kagami found us again, Shinjuku, the same bar.”

Kuroko’s stomach plummeted.

“I wanted to get outta there ‘soon as I saw him but he—” Aomine must have glimpsed the urgency in Kuroko’s paler than pale face and stared back down furiously at his feet. “Long story short, I nearly played him, changed my mind, Kise went for it but I told him to run for it. Think he was spooked but he still spent way too much time with us.”

“Kise-kun did?”

“Before you get any ideas it was my idea in the first place, he just joined in. You know how he gets with Kagami.”

Kuroko heard the tiredness, the night spent arguing in Aomine’s voice and temporarily let his ire towards Kise drop in his mind. Yes, indeed, he knew how Kise – and how any of the Generation of Miracles – could act when faced with Kagami, that beacon of talent with all the warmth that their teamwork lacked and the promise of much, much more. Each of them trod a journey from ego to disbelief with their worlds turned upside down reeling in defeat. They became reckless idiots with shredded tendons, broken illusions of success, tears down their faces and not a single regret in exchange.

The differences now being the lack of any formalised sportsmanship, and the lack of a connection to rekindle any fire. In short, they’d lost their way, and Kagami’s light drew them in like mad moths.

It would explain Kagami’s rambling the night before, Kuroko thought, but strange that he’d turned it around to blame himself. Kise – or Aomine must have said something to make him feel so down, surely? Doubting that he’d had much of a high school life?

Aomine must have heard Kuroko sigh as he mulled it over, because he sniffed, slowed his pace a little more as they came towards the daycare, until they were nearly static on the pavement.

“So there you have it. I won’t ask how the guy’s doing, but if we made things worse, Tetsu—I’m so sorry.” He rested a hand on Kuroko’s shoulder, although he still wasn’t managing eye contact with anybody other than his own shoes. “You’re always picking up the pieces of my fuck-ups. Tell me what I can do for you once in a while, alright?”

So he now had one guilt-ridden friend, and another in the grip of self-blame. Too similar – it gave him a headache. Kuroko sighed again, shoulders dropping, and looked up at Aomine – powerfully enough, somehow, that his friend looked back at him, eyes dry but earnest.

“Thank you. He didn’t actually mention you – I think perhaps he might have seen somebody else, from Seirin.”

Momentarily Aomine seemed relieved, but he instantly settled back into his usual tired frown.

“That’s no good either, though.”

“I know. I don’t know who it would have been, but he seemed…”

There wasn’t anything planned to finish that sentence with, so Kuroko nodded and tried something else. Some other contact. He reached a hand out tenderly, and gave Aomine’s knuckles a little tap with his own, gently-formed fist.

“Thanks for telling me, Aomine-kun.”

It seemed to mellow him out straight away. “Mm. Damned if you found out from Satsuki first again.”

“It’s… clearer this way.” Kuroko sidestepped strategically, for Momoi’s sake. “In any case, I don’t think any ‘damage’ has been done, so to say.”

“You don’t?”

Kuroko offered a hesitant smile. “He forgot a lot of things along the way, not all of them related. All this happened, and yet he hasn’t remembered anything about Himuro-kun, after all. He’ll soon bounce back from it – Kagami-kun always does, somehow.”

\--

Taiga paused, only briefly, from his meal to get another long gulp of coke. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the burger wrapper rustling on the tray, then Tatsuya’s deft fingers sneaking discarded pickles away. He made a soda-filled noise of protest.

“You weren’t saving them for later, though, were you?” Tatsuya popped one into his mouth and crunched. It took Taiga several struggled attempts to force down the drink and his last mouthful before having the room to reply.

“No, but…” It sounded reasonable, though – he had always left the pickles out, never thinking to ask for the burger without them, so for once they weren’t going to waste.

Tatsuya seemed pleased at the small victory and snuck another one in, munching away in the lull in conversation. Taiga took the moment to think about the situation with only low-level panic compared to earlier that morning.

Of _course_ he’d invited him out in his messy sad state the night before when it seemed like the only option he had for distraction, socialising, and avoiding any of the weird politics that seemed to be going on with Kuroko or Hide, and not when he was perfectly sober and properly thinking about it. Naturally having a clear enough mind to think about all the little things about Tatsuya that made his heart attempt climbing out of his throat was what would have stopped him, but nonetheless he’d accepted so coolly – _Sure - daytime, right? Where abouts?_ – that Taiga didn’t dare to go back on the invite once he’d awoken sore and severely aware of his actions the night before.

Thankfully, Tatsuya was cool with In-N-Out (or a clever replica, anyway) in the city, neatly near a junction where they could both head into work on the subway. The promise of a long lunch with not much brainpower required and plenty of comfortable seating got him through the nerves that had seized him when he thought about meeting up with some charming guy who he’d hardly seen exist outside of a neat and cute tearoom.

So they’d ordered and picked up trays in moments, and spent much longer perched at the window bar discussing the menu and L.A. life in English, swapping out a Japanese word here and there. Turned out they had a lot in common. The conversation had dried up a little after Tatsuya mentioned how he’d tried to ride his bike into the national forest as a kid. Well, it was a monstrous forest – Taiga didn’t have anything that matched up in scale to that adventure to compare it with.

Instead he just kept thinking about the v-neck that clung to Tatsuya’s shoulders but hung loose in places even as he moved – his stomach, his collarbones.

“You never did tell me how you came to stay in Tokyo.” He said, sparking Taiga out of his reverie that was so strong the beef mince was threatening to fall out his gaping mouth. He grumbled a little, wiping his chin, and frowned pointedly sideways at his companion.

“That again? You go first.”

“Hey now, I asked _you_.”

“’m sure your reason’s more interesting to hear.” Taiga turned bashfully back to his growing pile of wrappers and paper bags emptied of fries, and he could swear Tatsuya was trying to keep him from escaping his attention, as he leant his forearms heavily on the counter with elbows stuck out. He even made that strange, breath of a laugh-type noise that had come up a few times through their conversation. It made Taiga’s guts feel like jelly when he did that.

“Does it seem that exciting? Travelling after graduation.”

“Compared to me, I just stuck around after mine.”

One of those rogue elbows bumped his and he nearly choked on a fry. “No harm in that. You can go check in and see how your old teachers are doing whenever you like.”

“…Don’t reckon any of ‘em would wanna see me, with my grades…”

“Ah, more of a clubs type? Don’t worry,” Tatsuya tried to sneak another pickle without rustling the mess of wrappers too much, “I had just about everything piled on top of me in high school – student council, sports, grades, community service… Like, don’t get me wrong, it was fun, I went to a really hands-on school with this real message about giving back. But _tiring_ as hell. So, we did have a couple trips to Tokyo that ended up being sorta, moving, so much so that I got inspired and came to find work in the… you know, the big city.”

It sounded a little romantic, honestly – Taiga didn’t see anything wrong with that, although, having fallen into the city by chance, he hardly thought of it like a bustling hub of business from the inside.

“What was so moving about it?...If you don’t mind me asking, since it sounds like, you know, high school was kinda…” He caught himself on the border between conversational and intrusive, but Tatsuya waved a fry at him (and just when had he pinched it from his tray?), seeming to have read his mind.

“Yeah, you’re already used to it, right? It was just sports trips each time, the club I was a part of. We made it to nationals every year so every semester we got on the train wasted from finals and worked even harder in front of an audience. Never won, but there was some amazing competition…”

“What club?”

Tatsuya grinned, and lifted his salt-dusted hands, mimicking a three-point shot. “Basketball.”

“--!! No way!”

“Haha, it’s that stereotypical, huh? Or were you hoping for baseball?”

“No, I, it’s just—” Taiga was giddy with surprise, like a confetti-filled balloon had been burst behind his eyes, and his words tumbled out. “Me too! On the basketball team!”

“Ohh!”

“Yeah!”

“That’s amazing, Taiga,” And his stomach flipped as Tatsuya faced him a little more openly, sizing him up, his name in his voice, or maybe just trying to place him—“We must’ve passed each other by, or weren’t in the same group or something. The style of basketball you play in California is so different to here I would’ve spotted you playing straight away!”

He’d stolen the words right out of Taiga’s mouth. “Yeah—I would have noticed you too…” He added brainlessly, hurrying to cover up his admission, “or, something. At nationals.”

“Small world, right? I even found out not that long ago, Atsushi and I were in that club together at some point, and here we both are in Tokyo…”

That smacked Taiga down just as quickly as their shared realisation had him bouncing through the ceiling. “Oh, him…” Tatsuya breath-laughed again as though in understanding but he sensed a little ice in it; Taiga simply tried to imagine the guy moving at a pace faster than his backroom lumbering, on a court in front of thousands of people. “Yeah, he seems… a good height for it, I guess.”

“Mm-hmm. He doesn’t play any more either though.”

“Right…”

“You?”

“Me? No,” images of the recent midnight clashes on beaten-up Shibuya courts flashed through his mind, “ _No_ , not… not very well.”

“Ah, shame.” Tatsuya smiled a little sadly. “Out of the three of us, nobody carried on. Adulthood’s tough, huh.”

“R-right…”

“Still, that’s amazing.” He looked up from his fog of fear that they’d lose the trail of conversation, and Tatsuya was- elbows propped up, gazing at him intensely with such a fond _look_ -

“It’s, it was only a club, only Japanese basketball…” He babbled, trying desperately to shake the eyes on him whilst also sneaking a look-

“You say that, but it’s not easy here either. Or,” Tatsuya chuckled, “Were you just _that_ good?”

Taiga’s brain short-circuited. “Not _that_ good—”

“Good enough to get to nationals, Taiga.”

Embarassed and all rationale gone, he pushed back hard. “You’re just as good—better, probably!”

“Wanna bet?”

“Uh?”

Tatsuya was aggressive, that eye ablaze as he leant into Taiga’s personal space. In his brain-dead pause, the guy looked… excited. His breath was warm and tickled at Taiga’s forearm stuck out defensively over the counter – he couldn’t bring himself to move for it.

Suddenly his watch went off with harsh bleeps that shook them both from their freeze-frame. “Ah,” Taiga breathed with a glance down to the display, thanking the spirit of good timing, “I gotta run.” Tatsuya said nothing for a moment before withdrawing slowly, tucking an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

“Same for me, I think. Well, if I’m on my best behaviour.” He offered Taiga another smile but this time, he noticed, significantly reined-in from the wide-eyed excitement he’d just witnessed. Polite daytime Tatsuya was back in action – Taiga sighed inwardly. He didn’t know if he was _relieved_ to have this side of him back on show, only that this was all he could cope with, since just that moment of intensity still now had his heart hammering inside his ribcage.

Despite it, the rest of the day was just fine, and by the time Taiga and his shift-mates had clocked out his late-night headache was almost completely gone and the scramble of thoughts knotting up his brain were lighter. The journey home again was a grateful combination of the night train service and walking silent streets in his neighbourhood.

On the way back, he’d ducked into the gym to work up an appetite for dinner, a departure from the pre-wrapped meals of late, and it had worked a little too well – acheing in the night air, he craved something homemade and the image of the frozen gyoza stockpiled layers deep in the freezer in the flat called to him.

But he also had another feeling, pulling his body in another direction away from the path home – his workout hadn’t really gotten all the tension out of his system. His feet itched with the lightness of his sneakers as though demonstrating how easily he could take a running jump right now.

 _Better shake it all off,_ he thought, breaking into a light jog on the quiet streets with a detour only slightly away from the apartment. The idea of staying up wide awake again didn’t appeal to him much.

He thought about Tatsuya as he ran – very carefully, for Tatsuya as a person seemed made of sharp edges, never above room temperature, always armed with jabs that stung if he didn’t keep pace, and just thinking about him had him overexamining all the things he said, those little jokes that could be an insult if you were truly insecure about all of your qualities. Although he didn’t feel like Tatsuya was trying to hurt him – and he didn’t feel hurt, either—he never knew if it was in that kind of buddying-up tough love that he experienced in shoulder-slaps and nicknames at work, or playground teasing… a kid with a crush…

He swallowed between breaths. He had a harrowing feeling it was neither of those things, and that was just… Tatsuya being Tatsuya. The soft way he spoke never lined up with his words exactly. It wasn’t his fault that it came across so… invested, whenever he gave Taiga his full attention, with that keen eye focused on him long enough to give him butterflies, but…

Taiga had a terrible suspicion he knew what this feeling was, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions about why his legs felt like jelly or his pulse was rising so simply looked a little more closely at the pavement when he ran and pushed all thoughts out of his brain.

A good quarter of an hour later Taiga was still keeping pace with the regular heartbeat he’d worked up. The buildings on his journey were starting to look unfamiliar (but he guessed they would, at night) so he made to turn back, run on the other side of the road. A new development loomed on his left – tall, hedged, he stared at it curiously until the foliage dropped away to reveal open sky, space.

Basketball courts, outside the building. The net beam was as shiny as though hammered into place hours earlier.

He didn’t stop to look properly but definitely craned his neck as he sprinted home, holding all his observations in his mind.

\--

“Muro-chin, you’re drunk.”

“Hey, now. I promise I’m not.”

“You smell of alcohol.”

“Well, of course I do! I had a messy customer tonight. She gestured _with_ her martini.” Tatsuya pointed at the clean t-shirt he’d changed into behind the bar when he thought nobody was looking.

Atsushi’s hooded eyes drew closed, his skepticism too strong for a simple facial expression that required real effort to pull, anyway. He didn’t want to look at casual Friday Muro-chin either. No belt on his trousers, the waistband kept slipping down. Everything about him was over-comfortable, like the way he buddied up to people and used their given name so freely.

“You’re all…” he muttered into his scarf, “…giddy.”

“Yeah?”

He’d looked back up and made the mistake of seeing Tatsuya’s smile, semi-questioning, semi-fully aware of what he was doing with such an inviting look.

But there was a lot more behind it than he was used to seeing, and it sent him flustered and burrowing into the folds of his scarf until he was but a mop of misty purple emerging from the fabric.

“It’s annoying.”

Tatsuya laughed – the ghost of a laugh, an inward breath Atsushi heard from his scarf-nest where he stood tucked near the back of the bar – the sound of him coming closer. A hand resting on his arm.

“I can’t help it, I’m just happy. Plus, I’m pretty happy that you’re still waiting for me.”

Atsushi didn’t say anything, just stood and broiled.

“Even though you could be home and cosy right now…”

The hand on his arm travelled until he was tickling the inner crook of Atsushi’s elbow, making him flinch and squeeze his arms in protectively to his chest, the scarf drooping, and Tatsuya was smiling up at him…

“It’s not great, I mean, you’ll be grumpy tomorrow from lack of sleep. But in a selfish sort of way, I’m happy you’re here, Atsushi.” A beat, and it was clear that Atsushi still wouldn’t respond, “I’ll get my bag, then let’s walk home together, alright?”

That troublesome hand touched him again, a quick squeeze of his long fingers, before Tatsuya swept away to the back room. With him went Atsushi’s reserves of strength – he nearly keeled over, winded from the tension.

To an extent, he regretted what he’d said to him the other night under the streetlamps. About wanting to protect his happiness. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it was a horribly tender thing to admit to the constantly-intense Muro-chin who, for all his nagging and mood swings, very easily dropped everything for a little of Atsushi’s time.

Muro-chin _liked_ him; he knew that for a fact. It was the worst. He’d not chided him once for waiting for him after his shift when it was a daily habit before; he messaged him more, and made Atsushi _extremely_ conscious of his hands at all times the way he’d slip one easily into his pocket to fish his phone out for him, or his knuckles would brush against his when they walked together. It was a shock to the system but he didn’t want to resist. Muro-chin’s attention on him offset his usual routine, made him self-conscious and clumsy – which in turn made him fuss over Atsushi even more – and he became spoiled, for more attention. He knew how this would go.

He thought back to the other things that had spilled out of him lately.

 

_“Muro-chin, you know, we went to high school together.”_

_“Wow, really? What a small world! I never spotted you, were we in the same year? Or maybe you only grew this year?”_

_“Different year.”_

_“My_ kouhai _, huh? Well, school goes by in a flash -- I’m glad we didn’t have to have an awkward school reunion to meet like this!”_

As expected, Muro-chin hadn’t remembered a thing.

He’d forgotten everything from that year.

So Atsushi hated that he liked him back, all over again.

This Muro-chin who had long phone calls with friends just like before, who carried a lighter in his pocket instead of a Maiubo snack, and wore slacks and drink-soaked t-shirts instead of uniform cardigans and poorly-fitted ties.

Muro-chin, who had never stopped looking at him long enough to bother lighting a cigarette on their walks home ever since that night.

Muro-chin who seemed to fall in love very, very quickly.

What Atsushi hated the most was that he couldn’t tell this Muro-chin ‘no’. He couldn’t say that he was irritating, to go away. It was too difficult, and he didn’t want to have to deal with these hard things. Pushing Muro-chin away when Muro-chin was so powerful at pushing back. As much of a bother as he’d been in high school right to the end of their shared history there and then.

When did it become his responsibility? He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment – around the time that the mysterious Himuro Tatsuya appeared back in Tokyo, doing odd jobs around the district until he couldn’t bear him haunting the neighbourhood with his tired presence and lengthening eyebags any longer and suggested he try for Marigold Way, somewhere. For stability. Maybe it was a bad thing that his manager, hands-off and eager to please his miracle recruit with talent for patisserie unseen from any other apprentice, took the initiative to put him behind the bar. And even then they hadn’t ‘met’ for weeks between morning and nights.

All Kuro-chin had ever said to him after finding out was to “be careful”. As if Atsushi ever did anything wild out of his own accord. It was always troublesome people with headstrong ideals who shoved him into these positions, no matter how unwilling or hesitant he was.

_You know, Kuro-chin, being careful only works for someone like you. That’s why Mine-chin didn’t hold back…_

Anyway, it wasn’t as though anybody ever checked up on him who knew they were both in Tokyo. Like nothing would happen and everything was fine. None of them really knew what kind of tenacious person Muro-chin was.

And now that Kagami was in the picture, it wasn’t like Mine-chin or Se-chin were fighting his corner– messing around like Momo-chin had told them.

In the end it was left to him to protect Muro-chin, all alone. But the cost of being his shield, being close to him…

“Ready? It’s warm out there tonight!”

At the sound of Muro-chin’s voice, his resolve doubled, and his resistance melted away completely.

“Coming.”

\--

Once again, Kuroko was merciful about Kagami’s drunken 4am call. After the decent day he’d had right after, like a soft reset, it had taken him another week to actually broach the subject again, embarrassed as he was.

 _That’s alright_ , Kuroko texted back almost immediately to his awkward apology. _You had a lot on your mind, didn’t you?_

 _More or less_ , he replied.

_Certainly more, I should think._

Snarky Kuroko. But that was a good indicator that things were all right, if he could joke about it – sure, they’d been messaging every day as usual since then, but it had weighed on his conscience a little, knowing he’d taken a chunk out of his friend’s sleep to bother him with his late-night insecurities. Kagami was just glad there were no hard feelings.

_Course! The same asshole police had an asshole boyfriend too. Anyone would be freaked out!_

_But_ , he added quickly, _I think it’s all behind me now. Making different plans with coworks anyway._

He stood by the entranceway of the fire station staring down at his phone screen, waiting for a reply to give him closure, a bead of sweat running down his neck from the jog over. He nearly gave in, cutting it too close to his clock-in time when his phone buzzed again in his hand.

_I’m relieved. Let’s plan to meet again soon, so that your good days will cancel out the bad nights you’ve had._

_You got it!_

Grinning, he headed in and wedged his way through to the staff locker room, the sports bag across his shoulders a little too wide for comfort in the hallway. From further in near the sign-in sheet Hide glanced up, Kurosawa busy signing himself out from the overnight shift.

“Hey, Fire-god’s in after all! Traffic?”

“Yo. Nah, stuff just overran.”

Swinging his bag down, the zip gave way and the contents gave way – a fresh, new basketball tumbled out and bounced away across the locker room floor, followed by half his uniform on the tiles. Kurosawa turned and Hide goggled at the sight of the ball rolling along into a corner where Kagami dipped to scoop it up again.

“Dude—”

“Training.” Kagami explained, a little gruff in his slight bashfulness, but tried to shake it off. “I’m practicing again. Basketball.”

Hide’s eyes were like saucers even as Kagami went to change out of his sweaty training clothes, and Kurosawa smiled. “Picking up an old hobby? Sounds good.” Kagami nodded earnestly.

“It is good, yeah.”

According to the lone overnight trainer at the gym Taiga frequented, that outdoor court he’d discovered on the night run wasn’t getting used all that much. It was part of a school that had recently been built, but considering the summer holidays were coming up and it wouldn’t be accepting students any time soon, the court and nearby sports facilities had been opened to the public. So he’d gone and enquired about bookings and permits, dug out his old prized Jordans (it was a miracle that they still fit), and bought a single, brand-new, standard-sized basketball without a moment of hesitation.

He’d done his best to push past the uncomfortable, nausea-tinted memories of those nights in Shinjuku, rather than actively digging in his mind for any theory or instructions – and very quickly after an hour of dribbling, the stop-start pace of hitting the paint demonstrated the gap between the current Kagami and that video vision of himself from the Winter Cup, showing just how lacking in stamina he actually was.

Just like Kuroko, years back – when he shot hoops by himself at the school, he recalled a training camp, a court at night and a lone pale figure practising alone in the hot July outdoors. Eating with the whole club. That guy from the bar—Takao, a skinny thing, singing loudly outside the camp inn to unsettle them whenever they tried to catch a peaceful break from practice.

Like Kurosawa said, an old hobby, that turned out to have a lot more than just nostalgia attached to it…

“That’s awesome, Kagami! Hey, think you can teach the whole team to play? Then we’ll be Japan’s first basketball-playing firefighters, we can get a mascot and all…”

“Uh, definitely not.” Kagami sweated at the concept as he did his shirt up, but Hide laughed again, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Speaking of the whole team though— Kurosawa said he’s in already, gotta ask a couple more of the guys and volunteers too but we’re trying to pin down a date for drinks or a barbecue or something since we missed sakura-viewing this year. Do me a favour and write good days on the rota, okay?” Hide patted the staff noticeboard with the sheets for the end of June to mid-July on it. “Seriously, _any_ days. It’s going to be hell getting even two that work for half of us.”

He looked so grim at the concept of organising it, but—that Hide acted on his own will to have staff get-togethers surprised Kagami a little. Pleasantly, that is. Although, he had more than one reservation… “Sure—but, uh, back to Shinjuku?”

“No, noooo, separate from that thing. Deputy-chief Tanaka’s helping me book somewhere, no way I’d convince so many of us to go there.”

“Sure.” Inwardly Kagami thanked Hide and breathed a sigh of relief. Although he felt fine, even confident with a basketball in his bag _now_ , there was no telling what kind of nasty surprise would be waiting amongst the crowds at that bar on that monthly get-together. Maybe next time that police officer’s boyfriend would finally successfully kidnap him for a horrifyingly intense game of one-on-one.

“Anyway, we keep getting separated and getting home is tough, so…” As if thinking about the same dreadful nights Hide was ruffling his own hair, Kagami noticed, the way he did when he was trying to be honest with him. “Better if everybody in our department sticks together! So if we have a few more rough shifts, just look forward to our summertime party and power on through!”

 _Something to look forward to,_ right. Kagami glanced at the noticeboard as he headed through to the hangar, at his free days and late shifts. To think it was almost summer; it felt like only yesterday that cherry-blossoms were falling and Hide was trying to teach him life lessons about work-life balance in his own car.

He was a little worried that he’d actually taken the advice. Look at him, picking up basketball again. It had worked, though, hadn’t it? Maji Burger hadn’t seen a day without him for a week.

As they headed out to their first call-out of the day he decided he’d apologise again to Kuroko – in person this time.


	9. Chapter 9

Like every morning, Kuroko took a moment in the porch to doublecheck he had everything he needed before leaving his apartment. Wallet, phone, keys… Water, in case he forgot to stop by a vending machine on his long walk. The forecast said it would heat up by midday.

He tucked away the leash too. From further down the hall came an excited bark.

“Ah, Number 2. Keep quiet while we’re here, please?” Kuroko called back gently as he put on his shoes and opened the door to the apartment complex balcony. His landlady, who lived only the next floor up was nice and as understanding as any mild grandmother would be towards somebody with somebody of Kuroko’s constitution, but still had a fairly strict policy on pets – purely down to her allergies, he understood. Dogsitting was one of those grey areas, so when he was set to look after him, he simply planned on a day spent out of the house. At his size, Tetsuya Number 2 wouldn’t be happy with the confines of this apartment all day, anyway.

Number 2 was an adult now. Riko hadn’t been allowed to bring him to university with her, nor were her parents able to care for him when her father’s professional clients had him travelling constantly during game season, once word had spread that he had trained those, yes, _those_ Vorpal Swords. After a brief stint with Kuroko’s quiet but fussy family, Aomine had offered to adopt him for good. He was always a dog person, after all, and the energy he seemed to save in social interactions went completely into a solid training and playing schedule with the teenage pup – two hours of exercise recommended every day for an Alaskan malamute was an easy task. Number 2’s home was currently his and Kise’s spacious inner-city apartment which, Kuroko understood, was owned by the more glamorous half of the duo. It wasn’t often that Kise’s long-haul flights and back-to-back modelling contracts coincided with Aomine’s regular but unsociable schedule, so Kuroko lent a hand to his double where he could.

Kuroko heard the excited scrabbling of dog’s nails across the kitchen tiles back in the flat, and tried to bring a little lilt into his voice to encourage Number 2 outdoors. “So, shall we go?”

As he stood in the doorway with the door held open, he felt the presence of somebody else approaching down the balcony walkway – from polite habit he stood back slightly and turned to greet them. It wasn’t one of the usual neighbours however, and a very unexpected, familiar face nodded down at him.

“Surprise!” Kagami greeted, taking up all the space in the narrow walkway with just his height and his presence. Kuroko’s mouth hung slightly open as he processed it, took his phone out and checked for any messages since their last exchange earlier that morning. Indeed, he hadn’t heard anything after a silly chat about breakfast foods around 9am. He looked back up.

“What a surprise. Good morning, Kagami-kun.”

“Alright, you don’t have to fake it, checking your phone and all!” Kagami grizzled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I really am surprised, though. You didn’t say you were coming to visit.”

“Well, you said you had the day off and that we should do something… So I figured—uh, hoped you’d still be here.”

Kuroko cringed internally; this was poor timing, really. “It _is_ my day off, but—”

There was that skittering again, and through the open door burst Number 2, nimble-footed and eager to meet whoever Kuroko was talking to. All Kagami witnessed was a _dog_ and in his panic leapt back a few feet to keep his distance, eyes bulging – then, upon seeing how big it was, scrabbled away even further to safety, widening the gap between them until he was hugging the wall.

His fear must have been palpable because the dog waited in the doorway with what looked like a wide smile. Black and white, bright eyes with discernible pupils, huge paws and a curly tail wagging gleefully. Its stature reached Kuroko’s waist and it was looking _directly at him_. Kagami’s voice came out strangled and almost shrill.

“Wh- wh- wh— _you had a dog this whole time?!_ ”

“No, I happen to be dogsitting for a friend today. Sorry, Kagami-kun, it seems I surprised you in return.”

“Y-You’re tellin’ me… The size of that thing…!”

It yapped excitedly and Kagami twitched. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the dog, but he’d read something about how you had to hold your own against a beast like this to show who was in charge here— Even if that were true, he didn’t feel confident under the dog’s unwavering eyes, almost human in their keenness, their piercing blue colour.

“He’s very well-trained, except for his barking. Come on, please behave yourself.” Kuroko switched to speaking to the dog so seamlessly Kagami felt as though he was being reprimanded. When Kuroko bent down to clip the leash into the animal’s collar he felt a sense of relief glide over him, enough to finally risk peeling himself from the wall. As he did so the dog paced forward, tail wagging. The fear gripped Kagami again.

Kuroko studied him for a moment. “Did you have anything in mind for your visit? Unfortunately I have to walk him so we can’t stay put, but other than being outside and dropping him off I have no plans.”

“R-Right.” Kagami did his best not to lock eyes with it again. “Sure, yeah, or I wouldn’t have come here. Thought we could hop in the car and go somewhere new, you know, instead of the train, but…” The thought of being locked in a confined space with a big dog was far worse than any kind of concern about doggy drool on the car furnishings. Dogs had… _claws_ , right?

“I see… Sorry to make you come all this way. In a sense.”

“No, it’s fine! Why don’t we just – take a walk or something? We can catch up at least!”

“Kagami-kun…”

Kuroko couldn’t ignore the sweat beginning to bead on Kagami’s face as Number 2 paced and gnawed idly at his leash, tail wagging like it was motorised. He hadn’t forgotten how much his friend hated dogs, but it happened so rarely that he was face-to-face with one because of that, that he hadn’t seen him in such a state in years. Then again he seemed to be making a real effort…

“L-let’s go, yeah? Meet you downstairs!” In a last burst of energy Kagami nodded and took off down the flight of stairs leading to the ground floor. Avoiding the elevator, Kuroko noted, following shortly after from his home on the fourth floor.

They discovered that Kagami hadn’t had much of a chance to explore Kuroko’s neighbourhood, having only ever dropped him off at home at night or the early morning – such were their hours. The train station was surprisingly close by foot, as well as Kuroko’s place of work, the daycare centre. Kagami was a little boggled to see it for himself; Kuroko felt somewhat like a tour guide just for pointing it out. Each of them thought about the two years that Kuroko had lived here without this happening - but then, Kagami’s fire station wasn’t exactly something you could sightsee outside of an elementary school daytrip, so they were even, really.

If anything, it only left a strange feeling, knowing that they hadn’t seen the place that the other frequented every day when they went to high school together, sharing class, club activities, and those dawn-til-dusk training camps on breaks. A long-distance friendship despite the geographical proximity. Yet another worry to pile onto Kagami’s conscience, never mind the people he didn’t speak to anymore…

“Still though – that it took me this long to drop by, I’m pretty pissed at myself.” Kagami stood at the end of the bench, deliberating over his vending-machine drink. Kuroko frowned and crossed his legs where he sat on the wooden slats.

“It’s not worth antagonising yourself over, Kagami-kun. You’ve had your hands full with work all this time.”

Passing by the park earlier in a loop back to Kagami’s car hadn’t gone smoothly; Number 2 had pulled and tugged at the leash at soon as he spotted the open gate and fellow dogs, slowly overpowering Kuroko’s slight frame as they tried to walk past the park’s entrance until Kagami thought he was going to wrench the poor guy’s arm off. However he wasn’t about to step in and get even a foot closer to the dog by taking over the leash (as strong as their friendship was, that was beyond Kagami’s tolerance – Kuroko still stood a better chance against a malamute) they’d had no choice but to follow his lead and enter. It was a small leisure park with manicured grass where dogs had to be kept on leashes, so Number 2’s was currently tied firmly to the end of the bench where he was dashing about within range at sight of another animal or leaping at butterflies that drifted past. Kagami’s nerves were finally able to take a break, although he flashed pale every time another dog-walker passed by and he nearly became the victim of a pincer attack between pets.

“Yeah, but.” Kagami wasn’t _too_ hung up on his complaint, but he didn’t have a good, well-worded explanation for why it mattered to him either. Something about school and ‘getting to hang out’ and stuff. He’d never really known what a Japanese daycare centre looked like so it had been pure imagination up until that point, honestly – and knowing that the whole area wasn’t too different from the other districts he’d visited around Tokyo, well, he’d learn the roads in a heartbeat.

Between calming down from his dog-inspired fear and this topic, he remembered why he’d made the journey in the first place.

“Actually, Kuroko – I came here to hang out with you, but also to apologise…”

Kuroko looked up, surprised. “Oh – yes?”

“Yeah, and to… make up, or like, make up for myself.”

“…”

Kagami waited for a response. Then, worried, ventured, “So…?”

“…Pardon me, Kagami-kun, I’m not sure what you’re apologising for.”

“Urk-“ He hung his head – it wouldn’t be that easy, huh?

“-well, I… guess it’s nothing too major. But… it’s about, how I haven’t been there for you that much for a while—I mean, lately as well, but I realised, thinking about it, I’ve been relying on you a lot for ages. Like those last few times I kept you up stupid late over nothing.”

Kuroko’s eyes were wide, looking at him directly as ever, but Kagami ploughed on forward.

“I can’t keep relying on you alone to deal with all my bullshit. I mean, you have your hands full with your own life, other friends and people in your life that you care about, right? And… you dealt with all my teenage drama in high school. You have all that dirt on me and I got nothing on you, you’re pretty damn sensible. Plus, it shouldn’t just be once in a while that I say thanks for being there for me. Can’t just buy you off with Maji Burger all the time.”

Even though he seemed totally at ease whenever they did go for a mid-morning breakfast deal or late-night milkshake… Kagami stared at his feet. “So… Sorry for being so selfish, Kuroko. I don’t want you always picking up after me, dealing with my mess. I wanna go back to being… you know. The team we were. Helping each other.”

“Kagami-kun…”

 _My light, your shadow_ , Kuroko thought, but couldn’t—shouldn’t say, as much as he wanted to lighten the burden that Kagami seemed to be carrying. But before he could dispel any of those thoughts (he’d never once thought of his friend as selfish for wanting support – lonesome and irresponsible perhaps for never making other friends, but--), Kagami was squatting on the walkway path, rooting around in the shoulder bag he’d had swung across his back all morning.

He pulled out, to Kuroko’s surprise, a well-used basketball. It had marks all over the rubber.

“Which is why I was hoping today we could throw back to high school a bit to set the record straight!” Kagami grinned and held it aloft, at Kuroko’s eye level when the former was still perched on the ground.

_Play basketball together._

_Throwback._

It was a bizarre confession, one that electrified Kuroko’s body with shock right down to his fingertips. What had happened that meant Kagami had remembered this so vividly? How did that ball look so worn, and what would happen if he said yes, what fun they would both rediscover if they did rekindle their bond—he reached out a fearful hand towards the ball—

In a flash of black and white it was snatched from Kagami’s open palm before their eyes. Number 2 had leapt forward to catch it, his leash finally unwound from all his fussing at the bench, and as the ball rolled down a grassy verge he dashed away after it at full pelt. Kagami sat agape for a moment watching the scene unfold, but the gears turned in his brain as they saw the ball roll into a park flowerbed and he broke into a sprint towards his precious basketball, yelling “Damnit, Number 2!”

For a moment, Kuroko did nothing but watch the scene unfold further down the grass: Kagami lunging for the ball then jerking away in mortal panic, being chased around by the gleeful dog until the ball came to a standstill. The routine repeated a few times, until Kuroko saw that no progress was being made but Kagami was starting to stumble, so he snuck up on Number 2 silently enough to grab hold of his leash again. Slowing the poor thing down using misdirection when he was brimming full of puppylike energy was like reining in a horse, but he managed it at length; Kagami helped by corralling the ball so that the object of Number 2’s frenzy was no longer in motion. Thankfully no public flower displays were ruined in the process, but Kagami still took it upon himself to apologise profusely to the nearby dogwalkers whose pets had been lured in by the chaos.

They decided to walk through the park until they reached the next exit, planning to have Number 2 burn through his energy so he would behave on the train later. Kagami bounced the ball lazily in front of him, less sharp than a dribble but with enough control to keep him on his toes, a thudding rhythm along the paved path.

“You were certainly very keen to play, Kagami-kun. It’s almost completely out of the blue.”

“Uh, ‘almost’ how?”

Kuroko thought about it. “In high school you were crazy about basketball. It’s impossible to think about ‘Kagami-kun’ without also thinking about it. So it isn’t _completely_ unexpected, coming from you.”

“Right, huh…”

He had to have known that much, but Kagami seemed to be mulling over the concept, the effort of putting the details together making his eyebrows knit. “Well, that’s kinda why I picked it back up again. Getting really good at something and enjoying it a lot and then dropping it, it feels dishonest, like I’m wasting all the time I put into it. It’s not like I’m so busy I don’t have time for it.”

“You certainly had your hands full with practice back then. Those make-up tests were a veritable trial to help you study for, you know.”

“H-Hey, cut me some slack! I passed all those exams so at least let it go now!”

Kuroko looked aside as though oblivious to his dig, but smiled to himself. It didn’t seem that much history between them had been lost, as Kagami seemed to have feared.

_The team we were._

“A-Anyway, Kuroko, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Yes?”

Kagami stopped bouncing the ball and pointed at Number 2, who was still happily pattering along the path a few yards ahead. “Why do I know this dog?”

Kuroko opened his mouth.

He had called the dog by name earlier, hadn’t he, but Kuroko didn’t bring it up.

“Um.” He started. Kagami frowned uncomfortably.

“I recognise big dogs when I see ‘em ‘cause they’re… you know, _huge_ , but I feel like I know this one. Did Coach own something like it? A black-and-white thing?”

“Yes,” Kuroko nodded, and weighed up his options. For Kagami, renowned dog-fearer, to recall this… “The very same.”

…

“… But he’s _massive_?! The one Coach found was tiny!” Kagami yelped, jabbing a finger in their poor ward’s direction, the volume making Number 2 glance around irritably. Those ice-blue eyes were unmistakeable and Kagami growled, “God, you’re right, he is the same one! Tetsuya Number 2… No way…”

“His breed grow this big when they’re two years old.” Kuroko offered. Mental maths didn’t seem to help the situation but it foxed Kagami enough that he stopped arguing. Coach would have graduated and had the dog with her in that time, so he was no longer bouncing around at club practice, the same size as the basketballs he dodged.

“That—okay, fine…”

After a moment, he resumed bouncing the ball, but at a quicker tempo. The sound quickly became unnerving to Kuroko, like a rubber band pinging close to one’s ear. It only crowded in all the considerations he was trying to make, this mental minefield of things Kagami should and shouldn’t know. He worried that one piece falling into place would crumble the precarious structure that was Kagami’s memories, with its base build gutted and removed. It felt like Kagami took these interesting tidbits on board one by one without looking below at the shaky scaffolding.

“Are you okay, Kagami-kun?”

“Yeah. You know what,” He sniffed, and worked a lightning-fast double-bounce into their pace, “I’m mad that a dog remembered how to play basketball quicker than I did.”

The absurdity made Kuroko tilt his head in question. “Number 2 doesn’t go by any rules. I’m not sure that that would be ‘playing’ the game.”

“No, but see, I actually – started practising at this place near my neighbourhood a little while ago. It was meant to be a secret I was going to surprise you with, kinda… Took me hours to be able to chase after it like he did just now, my stamina and my motivation. Damnit, now I feel like I lost to this animal… Kuroko, you still remember some of the rules, right?”

“More or less. It’s been a long time since I played.” _By the rules, anyway_ , he thought – when meeting up with his old schoolfriend Ogiwara for streetball even these days, they hardly counted fouls or techniques to account for the unpredictability of Kuroko’s shooting. Kagami stopped walking.

“Play me a bit before I head home.”

His tone wasn’t demanding, more of a request – all the same it had Kuroko’s heart in his throat, and lifting his gaze from Number 2’s wagging tail he realised they had reached the tarmacked court that lay halfway through the park’s route. It wasn’t designed for any sport in particular and often had cones out for summer soccer practice or temporary nets popped up for badminton, but at this time of day, with kids stuck in class, it was empty.

“…I won’t stand a chance against you.” Kuroko rubbed his arm, the shadows of Teikou and Seirin cast across his mind. Kagami and Aomine both had spurned him time and again for being a useless opponent, only a foil.

“I don’t care about the score. I came here to, you know, get back into it with you. Start up our practice again. Besides, I’m no good either right now.”

Kagami didn’t back down when it came to basketball, even now, Kuroko remarked. Anything to play an old friend or a fresh rival. Kuroko found it hard to hold his own.

After all, he wanted more than anything to rekindle this part of their relationship again. Without the pressure, the communication on the court, the knowledge that he had another pastime in his life to pursue with passion and teammates, Kuroko found himself steeped in anxiety for Kagami’s sake. He’d never wanted him to feel the isolation he had felt when graduating from Teikou. That empty spring break. Ogiwara’s messages, deep in the archives of his inbox.

“That _is_ a little selfish of you, Kagami-kun.”

But most of all, it was selfish of himself to indulge him, surely. He heard Kagami hold his breath beside him, the ball coming to rest in his hands in anticipation.

“Shall we give it a go, then?”

Kagami grinned fiercely, and jogged away dribbling to the court. Number 2 whined to have his leash unclipped and the two of them ran around in circles waiting for their opponent to arrive.

True to himself, Kuroko did his best – and after half an hour of failed blocks and missed shoots, they agreed on a draw.

\---

_“I mean, the moving company’s coming this afternoon, so don’t feel you gotta carry anything…”_

_The autumn that Kagami had moved out of his father’s apartment, four years ago, a few members of Seirin basketball club who stayed in touch had offered to help pack and carry boxes. Really, they were gunning for being able to hang out in Kagami’s cool place one last time before the movers carted out all of his belongings. In the end only Furihata, Kuroko and Izuki were able to make it – the others all had their hands full with training new generations for the Winter Cup, or were neck-deep in university exams and interviews. They all sent their well-wishes, to which Kagami had replied ‘Thanks guys’ in the group chat, but awkwardly mumbled “It’s nothing major,” under his breath._

_“You got help coming? Hmmm, my kouhai sure is_ moving _up in the_ moving _world… Ah, there it is.” Izuki nodded sagely. He’d wanted to help out as the responsible senpai, since the other three were currently busiest of their year. The others remained silent in the echo of his terrible joke._

_“Besides that,” Their other teammate Furihata began as he worked on taping shut a box of kitchen utensils, “You really do live a neat life, huh, Kagami? You’ve already packed quite a lot of stuff.”_

_Kuroko stayed silent. When the procedure had taken place, one of the explicit instructions had been to dispose of or lock away anything that might trigger a memory that would no longer fit into the new life story that would be built as a result of losing a part of its history. In other words, removing the real memories meant that with a lack of physical reminders, the brain would fill in the gaps with logical conclusions and rewrite the events that no longer made sense. Of course, Kuroko had taken home a few key items for safekeeping. But only when they had gone through Kagami’s belongings, which were already sparse for a teenage boy, did Kuroko realise how many of them were photos of him growing up side-by-side with Himuro, stood with Alex, plus his pairs of old shoes, Chicago Bulls memorabilia and training aids. Without an archive of his shared history of basketball goods that had been shipped from Los Angeles to Tokyo, Kagami’s bookshelves and displays had become practically feng shui and whipped away at least ten years of a passionate pursuit._

_Kagami interrupted his thoughts by making a cross noise through his nose. “I don’t really have all that much to begin with, just the essentials. You guys know I live here on my own, right?”_

_“Yeah, but I was expecting stuff like sandwich toasters and takoyaki-makers in the cupboards and old middle-school projects and, like, twelve pairs of Jordans.”_

_“Why twelve?! I’ve only got one set of feet!”_

_Furihata laughed. “I dunno. One for every year you played basketball?”_

_The past tense dropped on Kuroko like a stone._

_Perhaps their teammates didn’t think of it, busy as they were with their own pursuits, but he realised suddenly._

_Kagami hadn’t played in a year._

_Not in a single one of the boxes that Kuroko had checked and given a ‘neat and tidy person’ seal of approval did he spot a basketball. Those black-and-red Jays had to be somewhere, in a shoebox or a bag perhaps as they weren’t on his friend’s feet or in the shoe cupboard, as though waiting til last to be cleared along with the guest slippers._

_“That doesn’t make any sense! If you want something that bad you should save up and get just the one thing that you really like and use all the time. Can’t just collect hundreds of it! Seriously.”_

_“B-but it’s fine for you to splurge at Korean barbecue, huh…”_

_“That’s different!”_

_Izuki must have spotted Kuroko frozen into place, white as a sheet, because he’d piped up between Furi and Kagami’s squabbling while stacking a few boxes near the door._

_“We won’t go through your stuff if you don’t want us to, Kagami. It looks like you’ve got everything pretty much under control, now, right? Want us to clean anything up?”_

_“…I mean, thanks for coming, but—yeah, I really don’t have much left to do. I don’t wanna trouble you with cleaning.” Kagami admitted, honest towards his senior._

_“If you’re absolutely sure. We’ll come to the new place and help you settle in, at least. But since you_ booked _the movers, we should_ book _it. Oh, there it is.”_

_“Get outta here.”_

_Trembling, Kuroko had forgotten to say goodbye at the end of their team effort, but he thought Kagami might not have noticed when ushering in the moving crew. Frighteningly the move had felt far too much like a house clearance – a blank slate. The old Kagami no longer lived here, in any sense at all._

\--

The call came on a weekday evening, and caught Kagami on the way back across the court to his sports bag for a swig of water. Ringtone blasting he fumbled to answer it when he saw the caller name flash up on the screen.

“Tatsuya,” He blurted out instead of saying _hi_ , and instantly squatted to hang his head in idiot shame over the tarmac. _Dumbass, me!_

“Easy there. What’s up?”

“Uh—not much. Practice.” Had he told Tatsuya that he set himself personal basketball practice these days? His head was spinning slightly from having broken away from his lay-ups so suddenly and he couldn’t remember. It had been several weeks since he’d first started, three or so since he’d last met up with him, and a week since his one-on-one with Kuroko had fired him up for serious training every day. “What’s, um, what’s going on with you?”

“Busy, huh. Not much. I’m actually off this evening.”

“Uh-huh? That’s good. You, don’t seem to get a lot of evenings off, do ya?”

Tatsuya didn’t reply for a second and he wondered if the line was breaking up – he’d never received or made a call on the school’s outdoor court, so perhaps the reception wasn’t great for calls – but then there was a heavy breath, which had him sweating before remembering that was just how Tatsuya laughed. Goddamn.

“That’s more or less true, I suppose. If you’re free after practice, come grab a drink with me?”

Kagami forced his brain into gear. “I- well, I’d love to, but do you really wanna go in on your day off?”

This time Tatsuya worked his laugh into his words, and Kagami had a very suspicious feeling about where his up-down tone was coming from. “Rhumbaba isn’t the only place in Nippori with beer. Come by, I’ll text you the address.”

Tatsuya did so, even in a car GPS-friendly format, and with barely a ten-minute pitstop at home to shower off all the grime from his long day Taiga leapt behind the wheel and headed on over. It didn’t take long – sunny June evenings had those usual car-commuters taking the train to avoid stuffy traffic jams on the roads.

The directions took him past Marigold Way, past the volunteer centre to a few close-knit roads crammed with residential houses and tiny converted blocks. The apartment block indicated in the address was small – a three-storey block that seemed to have been divided into a few more living spaces than a previous numerous family might have taken up in one home. Having lived in almost exclusively tower blocks all his life, Kagami felt strange knocking on this equally soulless magnolia-painted public building door, knowing it wasn’t so he could bust in and attack a fire.

What he had assumed was the buzz of sound pollution from the neighbourhood briefly dimmed, and the night was quiet – perhaps the music was coming from inside?— then, the door opened inwards and that stone-grey gaze met his.

“Well, well, Taiga. Thanks for dropping by.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

Tatsuya laughed. “Not at all, come in. I wasn’t keeping tabs on the time anyway.” He stepped back further and Taiga let himself in. He tried not to be too bothered about Tatsuya leaning against him to close the door behind them, but he hesitated in the porch, smelling the sharp tang of whiskey in the air.

“Are we heading out again, or…?”

“…Sorry, I gave that impression, did I?” Tatsuya backed off, looking a little casual-Friday in drainpipe jeans and a soft-looking sweater. _It’s hot, it’s June, and yet_ , Taiga thought bitterly. “We can if you like, but good luck finding better bar service.”

“I- meant if I should take off my shoes yet.”

“Oh! Yeah, please.”

Tatsuya smiled a little awkwardly and drifted off to another room as Taiga corrected his shoe situation; shortly the quiet of the apartment was broken as what he realised was a music player resumed again, the tunes of mellow rock anthems crooning back into lounge-appropriate volume. Somehow despite those kind mannerisms and smiles, that dramatic haircut and long bangs led Taiga to imagine that he’d be into music that was a little… angrier.

He returned with an empty beer bottle and darted sideways into the kitchen, beckoning vaguely for his houseguest to follow. Taiga perched near the door, hands firmly in pockets as he tried not to appear like he was scrutinising the place, merely looking around. Tatsuya’s kitchen was small, but had a lot of counter space with spices, seasonings and the like lined up neatly along edges and corners. He spotted a few familiar US brands of sauce.

A cold beer bottle was held out to him and reached to take it. Tatsuya didn’t let go of the neck for a moment however, looking him dead-on.

“Something like this okay? I’ve got other beers, spirits if you like.”

“N-nah, I’m good with Bud. Thanks.”

“Sure?” Tatsuya’s gaze was piercing. He felt like the wrong word would have him kicked out.

“I’m driving. Gotta behave.” Taiga tried to roll his eyes jokingly, as though annoyed at the executive decision to not get stupid drunk after a 12-hour shift, practice that left him tired, and before another 12-hour in a half-day’s time. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it last.”

“No need to be shy. But, gotta drive safe, right?” Thankfully, Tatsuya let it go and fished himself his own (new) bottle from the fridge. Taiga didn’t want to ask how many it had been, but then he seemed to be steady enough on his own two feet… He turned, grinning. “Want the grand tour?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Of course he knew that was only a figure of speech, but Tatsuya’s flat was, for lack of a better term, tiny. Other than the kitchen and bathroom, it was only a two-room tatami-floored place, one of them a slim little room with a window used for laundry, storage and those boring essentials, and the other a bigger room that functioned as a bedroom once the futon was unfolded. He’d furnished it with a low coffee-table, TV, a few sitting-cushions – then all of his, what he explained to Taiga with an aimless gesture as he slid open the window door, “hobby stuff. Oh, and the balcony. Shall we go?”

“You play?” Taiga pointed his beer distractedly at the guitar propped on a wall fixture, starry-eyed at the look of the instrument matching perfectly with the stacks of CDs tucked near his open laptop.

“Basketball? No, I quit a while ago, remember I told you—” Tatsuya seemed puzzled, thinking he’d indicated the sun-faded NBA poster that hung nearby.

“No, guitar, I mean.” Taiga sweated, his brain conjuring an image of Tatsuya as some kind of on-stage rocker. He had enough grey-black clothing to pull off that kind of look. “But uh, you never said you _quit_ basketball, so how come you have...”

Tatsuya smiled again, that open, unsure smile he wore when he didn’t want to show up the person asking. He’d seen it used with flirty teenagers and little kids trying to hold his hand when waiting to cross the street, and Taiga felt like he may as well have opened wide and inserted his own foot into his stupid mouth for the same result. Instead he went for his beer, taking a leaf from Tatsuya’s book, who waved a hand to distract him.

“Well, nothing dramatic. I just had my hands full with studying and before you know it, I got rusty and didn’t have a team to belong to. It’s a lot harder to find serious teams outside of college and high school. You’re the same, right? C’mon, the night air’s nice up here.” He beckoned outside and when he moved to follow, Tatsuya was already out leaning his elbows on the concrete edge of the balcony. The air was balmy, a suggestion of the oppressive summer humidity that would surely follow in the coming weeks.

Once he’d joined him, looking out over the street below, Taiga heard a glassy ‘tap’ and felt the bottle bump in his palm; he looked up to see Tatsuya slouched and grinning, his attempt to clink bottles together dampened by the grip on Taiga’s bottle.

“Cheers.” He sounded cheerful about it despite the lacklustre sound. Taiga nodded, leaning back a little. He felt ever so slightly out of place next to limber, casual Tatsuya, whose mood betrayed a few too many drinks for only 9pm.

There was something off about that. He knew for a solid fact that Tatsuya held his drink very well – at least, the kinds of drinks they stocked at his bar. The only telling signs were little things like his normally good posture suddenly slacking like a cat’s spine, or complete unawareness of personal space, moreso than usual.

Something like, Tatsuya with the saturation turned all the way up. Cranked up to eleven.

The sudden sound of a catfight broke out in a garden below, but it quickly seemed to resolve itself. It set Taiga’s heart racing but he used the adrenaline as fuel.

“Everything okay, Tatsuya? Calling me so short notice.”

He wondered if he’d been too vague in asking – something Tatsuya teased him about, and would artfully dodge his questions – since he didn’t get much of a response at first, but eventually he looked at Taiga over his left shoulder, that rarely-seen eye peeking out from where he’d swept his hair across messily.

“Yeah, kinda. The usual.” Tatsuya straightened up, only to look forward again and lean his elbows right on the outer edge of the balcony so that the beer bottle dangled down almost precariously between his long fingers. “Did it seem like I was in a pinch? Sorry.”

“Not really.” Taiga admitted. “Just like you wanted to hang out.”

“I asked you to, so, yeah.” He laughed.

“Not just that, just… I don’t know. If you’re fine then that’s good.”

“It’s rare of you to ask, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

It came off a little sharp, moving Taiga to glance across at Tatsuya – he met his eyes unexpectedly. That hard gaze was just as pointed, but he held eye contact.

“That stings, you know.”

“Mm?” Tatsuya blinked.

“Saying that kind of thing with a poker face, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Taiga frowned. It wasn’t easy to communicate, and _god_ , was Tatsuya sending him mixed messages right now. “I just wanted to check if you were alright, ‘cause you’re, what, four drinks deep all on your own.”

Tatsuya didn’t laugh. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. But, ‘poker face’, that’s a new one.”

What was threatening to flare up into temper dulled and became uncertainty again, twisting Taiga’s stomach in knots. Well, now he just felt bad – that’s what he got for trying to take out his frustration with Tatsuya on the guy himself. Taiga flushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t—like, it’s not _worrying,_ I don’t mind, I thought I’d just ask. I mean, hell, I’m bothering other people with my own hotheaded crap all the time, and it’s not even like I work with—drunk customers, or coworkers with mood swings or whatever.” He was thinking of the personal hell that would be stuck between working with the purple guy and having to serve disorderly regulars all nicey-nicey so you can get tips. To never complain about any aspect of anything in his life, Tatsuya must have the thickest skin, the steeliest defences. Never yelled at a wall after stubbing his toe, he bet. “You ever wanna get something off your chest though, I’ll come have a drink with you.”

Too focused on his speech, he hadn’t noticed Tatsuya’s movements, approaching along the balcony until he stood so close to him that they touched hip-to-hip. He still wasn’t looking up.

“Tatsuya?”

Concerned, Taiga joined him in resting both arms on the balcony, practically hugging his beer. From this vantage point he could have leant forward to try to read what little of the guy’s face was visible, but—didn’t. That strange aura still hung around him and he dreaded to think that he’d hurt him, or said something he shouldn’t have when all Tatsuya might have wanted to do was drink, laugh and forget. What about, he didn’t have to divulge, but…

Suddenly Tatsuya let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I should’ve asked this a little while ago—”

“Yeah?” Taiga listened keenly, ready to help, make amends, whatever to put Tatsuya back to his smart-aleck self.

“Taiga… are you seeing anybody at the moment?”

“ _Uh_.”

Tatsuya didn’t encourage an answer, merely dipped his head down to look at the street below as though to play off his patient waiting.

In a flurry Taiga not only had to process what exactly that meant, as well as state his answer that wasn’t too stupid-sounding, on top of a panicked and thrilled _why are you asking me of all people_ siren blaring through his brain.

But, oh god, he didn’t want anybody else to ask him this, ever, and silently cursed himself for not being as deft with words as the man gradually weighing on him, with hipbone, with the edge of his thigh, his elbow. Taiga’s t-shirt suddenly felt too tight on him, the temperature rose in his face, and he did his best to drag together an answer.

“No!”

He cursed mentally at his stupid, stupid panic, that Tatsuya seemed completely oblivious to. In fact – Taiga couldn’t tell if it was his goosebumps making everything so much more sensitive, he wasn’t able to turn his head to look down, but he was getting closer, the fabric of Tatsuya’s sweater brushing over his bare arm—

“Nobody you have your eye on?”

“Not—” he broke from his flustered stupor to try to look at Tatsuya in the face, licking his dry lips as if that could ever save his coarse way of speaking, “Not at the, nobody else—”

Tatsuya didn’t let him finish, leaning forward to press his lips on Taiga’s, angling his entire body weight it seemed to make him an immovable force.

Taiga felt like he’d frozen, thawed and melted like hot lava to the core, frozen again in place from the goosebumps that ran down his body in waves. Brain shorting out, he rested a palm on Tatsuya’s forearm to feel if the crazy temperature was just him, but as if he’d be able to tell in this state.

It didn’t feel real until he heard the tap of a glass bottle left on the concrete, and Tatsuya moved his mouth on his, kissing him again, lips slowly warming from the cool beer to match Taiga’s warmth. Taiga didn’t have to do much to push back but stand firm, and it seemed enough— he kept leaning in closer, kissing slowly and giving his lip a careful _suck_ , like he was savouring it.

He’d never kissed anybody before, at least not like this, not that he could remember. Where his experience of what was ‘good’ kissing failed him, he supplemented by pulling Tatsuya closer by his arm, hand creeping along to the back of his elbow, resting on his waist, the waistband of his jeans loose just below his fingers, and trying his best to copy what Tatsuya was doing.

He pushed into him more and more heavily, though, and Taiga began to notice the height difference between them – small, but noticeable enough with him in his arms.

Tatsuya broke the kiss briefly, leaving the two of them panting for breath—eyes hazy from concentration Taiga ventured to ask, “What’s the m—”

But Tatsuya was on him again and this time snaking a hand between them, across Taiga’s stomach over the fabric of his shirt. It was fiercely distracting and Taiga fought to concentrate on simply keeping Tatsuya’s mouth occupied, flicking his lip with a drag of his tongue – shy, but eager—when he feared that those fingers might plunge too low, but instead, as though getting the hint, they climbed.

“I didn’t wanna—” Tatsuya breathed into his cheek, interrupting himself to dip and land a heavy kiss on Taiga’s unprotected neck that made him gasp, jerk his head “— _not_ ask, but hearing you say it like that—” He whispered into his kisses that quickly became well-aimed bites, plucking at the skin. Taiga thought he was a goner, his knees about to give way, when all of it suddenly came to a halt.

They were arched into one another, hotly tucked into the corner of the balcony with hands in one another’s pockets or on skin, but Tatsuya’s fingers grasped emptily on Taiga’s chest right where the hem of his collar ended.

“H-Huh?” Tense and headrushed, Taiga tried to look down, but jammed where Tatsuya had his head nestled up against his throat. He seemed to be looking at his own hand. They stayed like this, flush and hearts pounding against one another, for a few more moments until Tatsuya stepped back, his weight quite literally lifted from Taiga’s body. They each stood wavering slightly.

“… I know I asked a lot, but _are_ you okay?” Taiga ventured, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, I—sorry, Taiga.”

“Wh, don’t—”

“For both jumping on you and stopping right when—haha, this is messy.” Tatsuya smiled and pushed his sweater sleeves up his forearms. If it wasn’t for their flustered body language and sore lips Taiga might have thought that he’d imagined it all. “Gosh, you didn’t imagine this for your evening plans, did you?”

Taiga shook his head, but not in a direct answer. “I didn’t mean—you can stop whenever, I wouldn’t wanna push you. Or, or push you away. Um.” He reddened again right when he could feel his pulse levelling out. Tatsuya laughed.

“…Right. Yeah, okay.”

“Tatsuya…”

He still wouldn’t meet Taiga’s eyes; he seemed to be stuck gazing at a point on Taiga’s shirt, the point where he’d seemed to realise enough was enough. Perhaps some errant thought had ruined it all for him.

Taiga had denied it earlier, but he did occasionally worry, on nights like these.

Was this him on a better or a worse night? He didn’t want to imagine.

Taiga still felt like electricity had come to reside out in his body, making him buzz just standing near Tatsuya. But, it was—about to get late fairly soon, and Tatsuya wasn’t budging at all…

“Hey, Tatsuya… I might, I, I oughta head home.”

“Okay.”

“You gonna be alright?”

Tatsuya raised his head, and even through the heat and fresh new vision from having his eyes screwed shut all that time, he looked to Taiga both satisfied and tired. He felt a little bad for not even having stayed that long, but maybe it was good, to only have an intense encounter. Poor guy needed a break.

“Yeah. I’ll walk you to the car, if you don’t mind – just to get a bit more air.”

They headed out, Tatsuya donning a denim jacket atop the sweater despite the—their shared rise in temperature. Now that their eyes had accustomed to the dark of night the neighbourhood wasn’t a problem to navigate on foot, even for Taiga. He was surprised to witness Tatsuya pat all of his pockets in the search for a lighter before striking a flame for his cigarette.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Fire-man.” He pronounced the words very separately and distinctly as he felt Taiga’s stare on him, a joke too laboured to be made except when dead sober. “I’ll dispose of it safely.”

Taiga cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment. “I don’t mind. Just never had a friend my age who smokes.”

“No? Huh.” A puff of smoke wisped away into the night air above them. “Sporty types tend not to, I guess.”

They walked in relative comfortable silence until they came to Taiga’s car. He unlocked it, and tenderly turned to his companion.

“Thanks for having me over.”

“Thanks for coming. And, Taiga—”

“Yeah?”

“About tonight… I have to tell you something but I guess I left it kinda late.” Tatsuya dropped his cigarette butt and firmly ground it out on the paving. Taiga’s heart lodged in his throat.

“Earlier, or well, earlier today—no, I’ll start again. You know Atsushi?” Much to Taiga’s utter displeasure he did, and he nodded apprehensively, unsure where this was going.

“We’ve seeing each other for a while. I mean, _maybe_ we still are. I don’t know. Things came to a head today and it’s not looking good. But,” he glanced aside, and for the first time Taiga felt like he was seeing something more earnest than the usual word-games, mind-games, “That doesn’t have any bearing… any bearing at all on what we are, you and I. At least, not to me. I like you. Sorry this is all so weird – you’re really amazing, Taiga. I wanted to be honest with you. And… please don’t feel like you have to give me an answer, at all.”

Taiga closed his mouth (he hadn’t felt his jaw drop), inhaled, and nodded. “Alright. I’ll, um.”

“Drive safe on your one beer.”

He exhaled loudly in relief, grinning. “Walk safe on your four!”

Tatsuya grinned, and Taiga spotted him waiting by the same spot until he turned a corner and he disappeared out of sight of the rear-view mirror. Looking up at the clouds through the windshield, Taiga felt a little floored by how much Tatsuya always seemed to have going on. And now, he supposed, so did he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to make myself feel better about the whole thing I started writing a miniseries called 'A day in the life of Number 2' which takes place in this verse, and is from Number 2's doggo POV. it'll be a part of the 'Before I See Too Much' series so please do check back for additions if ever you're as stressed as me and want to take the edge off with wholesome pupper fun!


	10. Chapter 10

Between the chords of an electric guitar solo, the track skipped, leaving Taiga in a suddenly keen state of awareness in the car. Thankfully the traffic light was still red, so with the time before it changed he fumbled to check the sound and start it up again.

A thought about Tatsuya snuck up on him as he swiped his phone screen, in the quiet of the still traffic lanes. He didn’t have any messages from him this morning.

Thinking about it, he was just now realising that those 4am messages were pretty standard come of late – usually some light-hearted jab about coming by for a beer to make up for the boring regulars – and so, no new updates on their message thread, was a little unusual.

But, the night before had been unusual too – the midnight bedtime for Tatsuya was pretty different to his work routine. Was he even awake at mid-morning on a shift day?

The complete lack of any messages from his phone, even knowing that Kuroko was busy, Hide was on nights as well this week, and he’d been there with Tatsuya last night, left him treading water in uncertainty. It had been a while since it had looked like this and for a moment he felt that sick, tender concern that popped out from time to time after a particularly gruelling shift. Emergency contacts. Family. The rest.

Rather than feeling sorry for himself, it signalled something wrong and all reasons why pointed to Tatsuya. They’d been chatting away last night after all, hadn’t they – it had taken him mere moments to get to sleep after he finally tumbled home but Tatsuya’s words replayed in his mind, his dreams for _hours_ after. He’d even woken up imagining the powerful scent of smoke in his room which, it turned out, only hung very faintly in the fabric of his shirt in the laundry-basket. Some keen overnight senses he’d developed.

At his next chance, he took an exit away from the route towards the high school’s court and pulled over to a parking space. Without hesitation he picked up the phone, dial tone blaring to Tatsuya’s number, and only as the click of the answer came did Taiga realise in a panic that the guy was probably hungover and wouldn’t appreciate a call so early.

The answer itself took a few moments. Then, a hesitant: “…Hello?”

“Tatsuya—hey.”

“…Taiga, it’s you.”

Fingers drumming on the steering-wheel, Taiga held his breath. Guess he hadn’t seen the caller ID? “Yeah, it’s me, morning. Are you—” he thought about it and reworded himself again, “—How, how’re you?”

“Not too sore.” He replied a little drily, and Taiga’s stomach plummeted in the fear he’d offended him already, but fretted to himself, _no, wait, he’s probably just… nervous or still recovering or something_. The numbers on the car time display leapt out at him but in his distraction they didn’t mean anything to him in the moment.

“Good, I’m glad. Figured it was sort of an early night for you anyway…?”

“Something like that.” Tatsuya mused, none of the amusement that usually accompanied his gentle agreements, as though he, too, were holding his breath.

It felt weird and static, but that was why Taiga was calling him directly.

“Are, are you not-sore enough to come out today? Before our shifts later.”

“…Now?”

“Well—uh, yeah, if you want to, or tomorrow, or Friday?”

“I…” There was the flutter of paper in the phone audio, and rustling as Tatsuya wedged the phone against his shoulder. “Today’s fine… What’s the rush?”

“I just wanted to, um,” Taiga bit his lip and wondered if he shouldn’t have hurried it after all, “…talk _without_ the beer.”

“Ahhh.” Tatsuya’s reply sounded understanding and to Taiga’s great relief, finished with a gentle laugh. _Thank God_ , he felt a little more like he was speaking to the right person now. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. It’d be nice to see you in the daylight again, too. Where and when? Are you on your way somewhere?”

He mulled over his current destination, then decided against it. “Central like last time? Anywhere’s good, I’ve got the car.”

“You don’t wanna pick? You know Tokyo much better than I do.”

“Hardly! I don’t go out too much…”

“By the arena, then?”

The suggestion lost him completely, so much so that Taiga almost asked him to repeat it when Tatsuya chuckled, interrupting his thoughts. “Sorry, I mean that arena – the one that the Winter Cup is held in.”

Oddly specific, but at least a decision was made. “It’ll take me an hour to get there, that OK?”

“Same for me – see you there.”

Sure enough, Tatsuya met him with the arc of the building curving neatly against the clear blue sky. It was strange to see it with so few people wandering the area, and having come here alone made the visit all the more surreal. They sat together on the white steps with icy cans from the vending-machine numbing their fingertips.

He tried not to stare or snatch too many glances, but in the daylight Tatsuya looked, to him, the same as ever – lightly tired, enjoying himself despite the apparent sleeploss. It didn’t really show in his countenance anyway. Someone like him didn’t get eyebags, just the suggestion of them.

Tatsuya tilted his head to one side, locking eyes with Taiga directly. Taiga felt his cheeks burn under the attention.

“Wh-what?”

Tatsuya smiled knowingly, then shrugged and leant back.

“Don’t worry, I got my full six hours.”

Taiga slumped his shoulders.

“Sorry.”

“Why’re you sorry?”

It sounded like a genuine question, and Taiga second-guessed himself.

“I dunno, like I’m making you self-conscious somehow.”

“I wouldn’t worry about _that_.”

 _What was that supposed to mean?_ Taiga paused to see if he’d go into that comment at all, but when no explanation came, he tried to shrug it off – no, brush it aside just for now, and readdress the purpose of them meeting like this.

“Then—I guess I was… thinking about last night.”

“That was—" But Tatsuya stopped himself quickly, mulling something over. “Last night, the one who messed things up—who started it, was me. You don’t need to worry about what happened before or after that.”

“’Messed up’? I mean, things got kinda sticky—” Taiga instantly regretted his choice of words, “—but that’s not what I meant…”

“It’s true, though. That I messed things up, and that’s why you called me here.”

He wondered how Tatsuya could come to such clean-cut conclusions with almost zero input from anybody else, and with such a calm look on his face, to boot. Sharpened attacks like a perfectly-formed icicle hanging right above a doorway. Meanwhile Taiga felt like he was burning up in his confusion, and not just from the sun beating down on them.

“Wait a minute—did you think I wanted to talk ‘cause I’m mad or something?”

“Or something,” Tatsuya echoed, and there was that smile again. He cracked open the drink in his hands without looking away from Taiga – who hadn’t realised those eyes were back on him. When he was talking alone with him, that lightly-held smile seemed to threaten to drop at any moment, none of the tension he usually strung it up with when he spoke to any of the guys in the bar. “…Honestly, I didn’t think you’d want to speak to me at all today.”

“Why not? I wanted to see if you were okay, is all.”

“ _Ah_.”

“That’s alright, isn’t it?” He glanced across to check, but Tatsuya wasn’t looking back at him, staring down at the can in his hands.

“ _That_ again, huh. Taiga, you really are a good guy.”

“Hey, I just meant, like—you were in a state when I turned up and when I left, it’s only normal to worry.”

“But _I’m_ the one who asked you to come over, so it’s not your responsibility to think about that stuff.”

He’d been through burning buildings, he’d climbed up the outside of houses, he’d cut open mangled vehicles after the nastiest crashes but in that moment Taiga had never felt such pressure to make exactly the right precise move to fix this trainwreck of a conversation. Tatsuya gave off an antsy vibe like he was ready to leave, fingers curling around the can and Taiga needed, desperately, to make him stay long enough to dispel all this weirdness that had surrounded them lately.

“I don’t care about who did what, Tatsuya, in the first place you just seemed like you had stuff going on, so I…”

It didn’t seem like the right move at all because for the first time since they’d met, Tatsuya frowned at him— the one visible eyebrow quirked in confusion.

“Like I said, that was my bad. It’s not for you to worry about.”

Taiga held his breath.

_It’s only normal I’d worry about you when you say that kind of thing!_

He took the plunge and let it out in one bold, gruff attempt.

“…But I care about you.”

Tatsuya’s face relaxed.

“And—” Taiga continued, “Of course I’d worry after what you said.”

He didn’t get a reaction to that; Tatsuya seemed to consider it, eyes lowering, and Taiga seized the opportunity to take a big swig of his drink in the silence. 

“I guess I did say some pretty wild stuff.”

“Pretty wild, yeah.” Taiga smiled awkwardly as his brain screamed, _wild doesn’t cover it,_ _wasn’t it something like a love confession?!_

“That’s why I thought you’d probably wanna avoid me. Instead of—trying to figure it out.”

“Well, right now, it sounds like _you_ wanted me to avoid you...”

“Didn’t think you’d want to talk about this. You’ve got enough going on, Taiga, you don’t have to worry yourself with someone like me. You’re just…” Tatsuya gestured with a free hand, something indistinct with his hand open. But Taiga shook his head.

“Listen – it’s not about ‘having to’, I just _do_ , okay?” It looked like Tatsuya wanted to interrupt, but he held back. “If you call up in—in the middle of the night drunk saying you wanna hang out, and then you… do those things and say that stuff, it’s only natural I’d think about why and if you’re okay now. If I didn’t, I’d just worry on my own instead without knowing for real, and maybe you’d think I was freaked out, and who knows if we’d hang out again anymore. And just so you know, it’d take a lot more than—than, uh, you… um, kissing me to spook me that bad.”

To his surprise even through the rush of adrenaline, Tatsuya’s unreadable look broke into a laugh.

A laugh too far removed from his breathy laugh of agreement, his polite customer-facing smile, even his teasing jabs.

It sounded sad.

Tatsuya breathed, set his drink down on a step. “ _Jesus_ , I really messed both of us around. I’m sorry, Taiga.”

“N-no, it’s fine…” He grumbled back, looking away, embarrassed that the attention was swivelled back onto him.

“Mm, well, if you think it’s fine, then sure… But I don’t really want to give you so much to worry about, when it comes to me. I’d better shape up.”

Taiga glanced across at him. “It’s okay, it’s not like it happens that often, right?”

“Well… It’d be good if you didn’t have to worry about me at all.”

He sighed, unsatisfied – despite the progress it almost felt like they were back at square one, the way Tatsuya was talking, but it was hard to put down the topic. “Shape up or stay the way you are, I don’t mind, worrying’s just part of having someone in your life. Caring about your friends, and all.”

Tatsuya didn’t say anything, but made a small, affirmative sound and took a sip of his drink.

“That’s not, um—my answer, by the way.” Taiga blurted out. “Friends.”

Tatsuya nodded. “That’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Like I said, you don’t have to give me one. I meant what I said.”

Taiga fidgeted, jiggling his leg on the steps. “I-I’d like to, sometime.”

“Haha, alright. I’ll look forward to it, then.”

They slipped back into silence, staring straight ahead. Taiga squinted out into the blue of the clear sky above them in attempt to calm his fidgeting down. All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse. It didn’t feel like either of them had tried to reset anything. For Taiga, the most important thing was that they could continue talking. He was sick of that stupid retrospect and regrets about all his old classmates, he wasn’t going to lose anybody from inaction anymore.

Just like in his work, he supposed – doing something was definitely better than doing nothing at all.

“You know what?” Tatsuya coolly broke through Taiga’s passionate affirmations.

“What?”

He grinned, and turned to face him. “I lost the toughest match of my life right here at this stadium. I think that was what made me decide to come to Tokyo.”

“Uh-huh…” _Hardcore_ , Taiga thought.

“One day when we have more time, tell me about your games, too.”

“It’s a promise.”

“Promise. Yeah.” Tatsuya laughed and held out his can.

They toasted to some far-off catch-up, when neither of them were hungover, sleep-deprived or emotionally exhausted, joking that it wouldn’t be for months, each silently planning to fix those things starting right then.

\--

 

At the evening shift changeover, the firefighter team assembled as normal in the hangar, standing in a row with hands behind their backs as Chief Harada rounded up the day’s achievements and the night crew’s tasks ahead. Out of the corner of his eye Kagami watched Deputy Chief Tanaka mark off equipment checks on a clipboard, a shadow cast in the wide open entrance by the light of the sunset. The months were moving quickly. There was a sense that something was on his colleagues’ minds today, the way they glanced to and fro between pauses in speech and bumped shoulders gently.

“Finally,” Their chief summarised, “We have a change in responsibilities ahead of the usual bulk-up in forces for the Tanabata fireworks and O-Bon festival. Deputy Chief?”

Tanaka joined them with a nod of greeting. “We’re all here, are we? Good.” He gestured towards the team all lined up at first, then back to their leader. Harada nodded back and firmly, stared straight ahead, directly at their newest recruit.

“Kagami.”

Kicking any thoughts of lounging out in that evening sunshine, he bristled and stood more keenly to attention under Chief Harada’s solid gaze.

“Chief?”

“You’ve been a part of Setagaya’s proud firefighting squad for over a year. In that time you’ve taken on many tasks, and grown to adapt yourself to new challenges. Whether you’re ready or not, you will now be taking on one of the most divisive yet necessary duties that your role—no, the community requires of you.”

Over a year – Kagami blinked, nervous despite himself. A quarter of a year had flown by in a flash since his probation had ended. After the clearance to shoulder many more responsibilities had come another hurdle—

“Twenty-fours.” Whispered Hide knowingly at Kagami’s shoulder. Chief Harada continued.

“You’ve proven your mettle. After next week, you’ll have twenty-four hour shifts in your rota, alternate weeks with your eights and twelves. It’s a commitment that you have demonstrated that you are more than capable of making.”

A moment’s silence after stern words, then Deputy Chief Tanaka grinned and put his hands together to clap. “Congratulations, Kagami. You’re now in the core unit.”

He’d broken into a formal bow way too soon so his team’s polite applause had been all over his head, but Hide and Nakayoshi patted him on the back once they’d retreated to the changing-rooms, as though attempting to disperse all the formality that the situation had put on him.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! It’s not too weird to seize up like that when Chief talks like that to you directly!”

“Eh, you’re joking,” The older Nakayoshi quipped, although not letting up on his sympathetic patting, “It’s not normal to stay bowed for so long just for a shift extension. Fire-god’s the kind of person who tries to meet those situations head-on and gets overwhelmed. Right?”

“No… Uh, I don’t think.” Kagami gruffly tried to soften his reply, still tender from Chief Harada having to order him to raise his head again from the formal bow he’d locked up into. He just, hadn’t been expecting something as natural a progression as taking on new shift patterns to feel like a promotion, or an additional hope pinned onto him, or something. He concentrated on changing out of his uniform instead.

“Am I dropping you home, Hide?”

“Mm? You’re not going to practice? Then sure!” Beside him, his co-worker stretched out his legs on the changing-room bench. “I’ve gotta get my quality time in now, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is twelve whole hours testing dud alarms not enough for you?”

“Come on, you forgot already? _I’m_ not on twenty-fours, Fire-god – probably won’t be for another few years, until the baby’s not a baby any more.” Hide sniffed. “Our days in aren’t gonna line up for much longer.”

“You haven’t done them for a few months now, huh.” Nakayoshi added.

Kagami sighed. “Man, I didn’t even think…”

“It was gonna happen eventually. So I guess we’ll just have to make sure the team party’s a real blast!”

“Oh, right!”

“You got a place for it?” Kagami finished changing his shoes, his usual sneakers for practice out of a newly-formed habit, and the three of them headed out into the evening sun.

“Er, not a place, just a date.” In the warmth Hide grizzled a little but offered Kagami a reassuring grin. “But don’t worry – it’s all booked in on the rota and worked so everybody gets a few hours for a drink, I’m hoping we’ll get a good turnout! Looking forward to it?”

Kagami mulled it over as they piled into his car, Nakayoshi joining them for a lift to the station. Before, the concept of a get-together with all of Setagaya’s fire squad from the full-timers through to the volunteers seemed to him a little abnormal – after all, they were only ever in contact during stressful times, so why would they want to see even more of one another and reminisce over those accidents and struggles?

But he’d gotten used to the idea over Hide’s daily worrying-out-loud about attendance, room booking fees, and ‘somewhere that everybody can enjoy’, and before he knew it, Kagami found himself eager for it to happen – not knowing what to expect, aware it would be a new challenge, yet ready to see it through.

He wondered if this recent change of heart had anything to do with the promise of twenty-four-hour shifts. It felt like his coworkers all knew that he’d be onto them soon, from their mild reaction when Chief Harada had announced it abruptly in front of everybody. From what he knew of those longer shifts from Hide and his higher-ups, it was the same as a twelve-hour, but more… rooted on the spot. Practically becoming roommates with your coworkers.

Maybe he was looking forward to that part more – when he thought about training camps before basketball tournaments in high school, his heart started to race with the memories of hot springs and fiercely cooking in teams the night before a huge match. The feeling of crowding together with the people he shared strenuous practice with every day.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well, good! If our shifts stop lining up, we’ll just have to use it to kickstart our careers as drinking buddies!”

Kagami snorted.

That reminded him – he had somebody to message this evening, the one person he couldn’t forget all through the day.

\--

The screen caught Tatsuya’s eye from where he kept his phone by the register, its gentle blue glow lighting up the wooden shelf. He hesitated to look for a moment, certain he’d seen Taiga’s name on the screen and unwilling to get sucked into a conversation in the bar that was slowly filling up as students trickled in, but moved across to look between wiping down the counter.

_Hey Tatsuya. Coworks are planning drinks later in the summer, thought of you but what do you think?_

He’d barely skimmed it when a second message sailed through, bumping up beneath the first.

_thought of you guys*_

“Taiga…”

A regular glanced up from his drink at the counter, but Tatsuya shrugged it off, pretending to rearrange the beers in the fridge beside him – Asahi, Tiger, the rest. He looked back at his phone and a sigh of relief escaped him.

It was a little embarrassing how easily both Atsushi and Taiga could see right through his alcoholic armour, like what he’d donned the night before. But if it hadn’t been for that ability, then Taiga wouldn’t have reached back out. Maybe it was a good thing he’d messed up.

He quickly tapped back a reply, eager to seize the chance before Taiga had to dash off to another visit, or whatever his evening entailed.

tatsuya _: If you’re okay with no emergency services discounts, we’re in._

Taiga was fast to message back.

taiga: _I wouldn’t ask for something like that!_

tatsuya _: Just kidding_

taiga: _wait so we do get a discount?_

Tatsuya wanted to shake his head at how easily they each got wrapped up in a dumb interchange like this.

tatsuya: _No, but you can have a tab_

No swift response came, so he imagined he was checking with somebody. Well, no bookings ever got wrapped up that quickly.

 _It would be nice if things continued like this, after today_ , he thought. Although they probably couldn’t go back to what he’d considered was ‘normal’, his world so clearly different from that of flustered go-getter Kagami Taiga’s, they could probably find some comfortable middle-ground where he didn’t feel like smiling all the time just to soften his apparently unreadable face. The fact that they’d managed to talk, when he’d confessed to him very clearly amidst a whole sea of jumbled-up circumstances. And still Taiga had the decency to promise him an answer sometime, to Tatsuya, hot mess of a man with only a second-hand car and a stress management problem to his name.

Suddenly, staring at the beer cooler, Tatsuya realised that he hadn’t even said those things clearly to Atsushi yet. 

He could feel the back of his neck prickle from being watched, a welcome distraction from the heat rising in his face, and he headed straight back into serving, greeting a few more students clamouring at the bar for a second round of drinks who arguing over who was going to pay. Between filling pints for the table he saw more customers approach out of the corner of his eye; he stayed focused, hand on the tap, until one of the newcomers’ distinct movements – or lack thereof – caught his attention. His heart skipped a beat and he forced his thoughts down deep.

“Atsushi, wait up.” He didn’t look across but smiled cautiously as he continued with his round.

Atsushi didn’t reply, or perhaps he did so wordlessly with one of those signature ‘hmmm’s of his, and the sound was drowned out in the background murmur and bustle of the bar. Tatsuya found himself smoothly rushing the round and holding the card reader out to the customer, but head turned to keep his eyes locked onto Atsushi, bidding for his attention. He sat slouched at the bar with his gaze sidelong at – all the other customers, or anybody except Tatsuya, it seemed.

He didn’t look up until the group left with their beers, then to both Tatsuya’s annoyance and relief, rolled his eyes slowly as he faced him properly. “So noisy. I can hardly hear myself think.”

“Now, don’t be like that about our customers, Atsushi. You haven’t even seen a rowdy night.”

“Ehh, I don’t want to imagine.”

Tatsuya took a breath and smiled gently. “Since you’re here, what can I get you?”

Atsushi wrinkled his nose. “Fanta.”

“I don’t have that. Try again?”

“Hmmm-mm, Fanta would be nice.”

“Not like that…” Tatsuya sighed.

“Then, whatever’s sweet.”

“Coming right up.” He could feel his patience—no, just his overall mood fraying slightly between facing down his crush after their argument and the politeness that bartending required, so he let his hands, the muscle memory of bartending take over. He filled up another customer’s drink as the head on the ginger beer came to a rest, then completed it with a dash of syrup, delicately placing it on a coaster in front of Atsushi and awaiting his feedback in tense, eager silence.

Looking suspiciously between Tatsuya and the glass with a berry floating atop the icecubes, Atsushi stirred the drink with its straw. After a thoughtful pause he mumbled, “It isn’t Cassis?”

“Nearly.”

“What is it?”

“’Tall, Dark and Stormy’. For you.”

“Muro-chin, you’re embarrassing. What flavour?”

“Why not taste it and see?”

He sipped. Crushingly, Tatsuya’s heart melted a little.

“Eurgh, strong. It _is_ Cassis though.”

“There’s some in it – it’ll be sweeter if you stir it, go on.” He watched Atsushi oblige by stirring up the syrup with the straw between earnest sips. For a moment, it felt peaceful. But he wasn’t going to let it go quiet, the conversation shut off, leave the situation the same. “…Why’d you come here so early tonight, Atsushi? You know I won’t finish for a few hours.”

A cheer erupted from the group of students on a far table, causing Atsushi’s eyebrows to quirk in irritation under his messy mop.

“Atsushi.”

“What?”

“I don’t—” _have time to play mind games with you,_ he thought— but, shit, he didn’t want to argue with him any more than he wanted this stupid silent treatment, and the excuse came naturally, so he wouldn’t have to justify why he wanted everything to get better. “…now’s a bad time to talk, huh? Since you can’t hear all that well with this hubbub.”

“Mmmmm. Okay.”

“…”

Tatsuya felt like he’d dug himself into a hole.

They’d had an argument over nothing at all – it was stupid thinking that they were rehashing the same empty miscommunication even now. He’d mentioned it was a shame Atsushi didn’t stay over despite waiting for him so late and walking him so close to his house, and it had somehow gone viciously wrong from there. Atsushi had declared he didn’t know why he thought they should do something like that without describing the nature of ‘that’, exactly, and besides, he’s the one dragging him halfway to his house instead of saying goodbye at the usual place.

Even though, Tatsuya had struggled to explain, _even though_ the one who had started following him home was _Atsushi_ in the first place, refusing to let go of a hand or lingering moodily and silently at the street corner with his head nestled against Tatsuya’s in the lamplight.

Nothing matched up at all, from that moment then to Atsushi sipping away at the rum cocktail before him now. Tatsuya felt tired, but weirdly spirited.

God, this kind of thing was _definitely_ why Taiga was always asking him if he was okay. He didn’t feel it at all when he tried to consider what had led up to this point where he didn’t know where to wedge in a comment to crack Atsushi open like a nut and make him explain himself.

He glanced aside to check that his little box-bar was free of customers, his regulars all sat with fellow drinkers at tables, and leant in on his elbow to Atsushi over the counter. “Can we call a truce?”

“Huh? A truce?”

“Yeah. Whatever we were arguing about – why don’t we forget about it and start again.” He offered what he hoped was a nice positive look, but Atsushi’s stony eyes seemed unmoved, only a little more open with dumbfounded alertness.

“We didn’t argue about it…”

“You’re giving me the silent treatment a little bit, though.”

Appropriately, Atsushi took a moment to reply. “’m not doing it on purpose.” He mumbled like an embarrassed child.

Tatsuya smiled back. “It comes off that way. You know, not even saying hello to your bartender is pretty impolite too.”

“That’s…” Atsushi poked at the melting icecubes with the straw, making a jangling noise. He didn’t seem interested in finishing his sentence or his drink just yet, so in the absence of customers, Tatsuya took to stepping back and wiping the bar, something to keep his hands busy. The screen of his phone glowed gently by the cash register. He glanced at it and tried to reaffirm himself.

“You know, Atsushi, I think we’re going to start getting busier this year.”

“Huhh?”

“The bar. We might have some bookings and parties planned, that sort of stuff.”

“Ehhh, okay. So yours and Hiro-chin’s kind of thing.”

Tatsuya nodded. “We’re the bar tag-team, after all. Hiro loves a good crowd.”

“Mmmmm.” Atsushi stirred the ends of the icecubes noisily. It was clear from his face he was thinking about all the people that parties consisted of, and how much he disliked that exact type of environment.

“Maybe you could hang out and meet some new people with us?”

“Mm, no thanks, not in my own time. Whatever goes, as long as I can keep baking and manager gets off our backs.”

“That’d be good, yeah.”

Café Rhumbaba had to be on thin ice if even Atsushi was feeling the pressure. He was the manager’s golden boy; the place was opened with a patisserie concept specifically to show off his talents, spotted in a youth competition. From what Tatsuya understood, pieced together from Atsushi’s half-baked explanations and Hiro’s gossip, he hadn’t stayed in Akita, sought university education, nor pursued basketball after graduation either. They’d been similar up until those facts, but Atsushi had then thrown himself full-pelt into his passion for sweets and the next thing he knew, talent scouts were clamouring at the doors of his culinary college accommodation. And so he’d been whisked away to provide a menu for this spot of Tokyo suburbs that lacked anything remotely fancy.

True, their only rivals in terms of bread or cake were the traditional bakery on the other side of Marigold Way who specialised in Japanese flavours, and the sweetshop that produced mainly little jewels of sugar, but Rhumbaba’s creations were on the opposite end of the spectrum, both in taste and in price. They’d cut back on a few embellishments – the lunchtime menu when it became clear Atsushi had zero interest in savoury items, the cocktail menu Tatsuya had lovingly composed after it emerged that most visitors weren’t after anything more complex than a whiskey and soda— even the cake needed a few cutbacks in price as the puff pastry went from hand-rolled to store-bought, compromising on a high-class brand to prevent Atsushi’s threatened strike in the honour of his favourite millefeuille.

Tatsuya wondered idly if he could make Taiga’s presence a little more acceptable in Atsushi’s eyes, if only for the idea that he’d bring however big a deposit for the place. He didn’t dare mention it just yet.

And in the meantime, he remembered—

That he hadn’t mentioned any of this to Taiga, either.

Until now, Tatsuya hadn’t ever felt like he owed anybody much in the way of truth, let alone a deep explanation of a situation.

 _Is this what ‘being cared about’ means_ , he despaired, _telling Taiga these complicated things?_

He supposed that he was the first one to dump all those messy feelings on him in the first place. The very thing he tried to push Taiga away with, and now he had to take responsibility for it in this messier way.

Before that, he was the first one to reach out to him outside of those strictly work-only parameters.

In front of him, he found a glass – a tall glass, devoid of its contents and only a lone straw perching in it—being slid towards him across the bar by long, strong fingers. Tatsuya’s eyes flickered back into focus.

“Gimme seconds, Muro-chiiiin.” Atsushi demanded between crunching the icecubes, one cheek full like a lopsided hamster. Tatsuya’s heart squeezed again, and he grabbed the glass.

“Comin’ right up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which communicating is very hard
> 
> In the time between writing the last chapter and writing this chapter my brain splurged on the concept of a pre-main story fic re: Aokise and how they got together prior to this main story so that may or may not be in the works, I can't neglect my first kurobas ship...


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